Murder And Aliens
by Dead Man's Toe
Summary: When The Doctor and Clara go undercover to investigate a murder, they end up butting heads with none other than Sherlock Holmes. (Rated for violence).
1. Murder In London

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Sherlock or Doctor Who.

**XOXOXOXOXOXOXOX**

She leaned her back against the console and ran her fingers through her hair. A ghost of a smile was on her lips as she hung up her phone. "So," she began, turning her attention to him. "What have we got this time?"

The Doctor grinned. "Murder. In London."

Clara grinned back and met his eyes. Unmasked affection shone straight through. J_ust like she used to look at me_, the Doctor thought to himself. _Back_ _when my face was young. She sees me. This is fantastic._

Not too long ago, the Doctor had regenerated, and he had come so close to losing his companion. He still remembered her eyes looking straight through him, as if she was searching for someone else. It had terrified the Doctor. But it didn't take long for her to come around.

"Aliens?" she asked, excitement creeping into her voice.

"Most definitely," the Doctor responded eagerly. "Tell me, Clara- how do you feel about undercover work?"

Her eyes lit up. He stood next to her, leaning against the console. "Oh! Like when you came to the school!"

"Exactly!" The Doctor smiled smugly. He knew his companion couldn't resist the allure of danger.

"So, what, are we going to be detectives now? Like Vastra?" Clara asked.

The Doctor turned around and flipped a switch up. "Exactly," he repeated while turning a knob. Truth be told, he was only adjusting the swimming pool temperature, but he wanted to look impressive for Clara.

"So, which aliens are we dealing with?"

"I have no idea," the Doctor replied, grinning even wider.

**XOXOXOXOXOXOXOX**

He was so _bored_. They hadn't had an interesting case for days. Lazily, he picked up his gun and shot the wall.

An exasperated sigh came from the man in the armchair. "Sherlock-"

"I'm bored!" Sherlock interrupted. "John! I need a case!"

"Check the website," John grumbled, returning to his newspaper.

With a sigh, Sherlock picked up his flatmate's laptop. John had changed his password again, but it only took Sherlock about twelve seconds to figure it out. He was getting more creative these days, Sherlock had to admit. He navigated over to John's blog and began to read through the cases.

Just then, Sherlock's phone rang. "John, can you get that for me?" he asked, not looking up from the screen. He could almost hear the other man rolling his eyes as he retrieved the phone from the table and handed it to Sherlock.

_9078 Harlington Road. There's been a murder. How soon can you get here? -GL_

Sherlock grinned. "Forget the blog, John, there's been a murder," he said gleefully.

"Is that my- oh never mind," John sighed, taking his laptop and closing it. "I'll get my coat."

A few minutes later, Sherlock and John were sitting in a cab, on their way to the crime scene. Sherlock could feel the excitement rising inside of him. _Finally_, he thought, _something to do! A murder, how delightful!_

When they arrived, Sherlock rushed out of the cab. In the back of his mind, he was vaguely aware of John complaining about paying, but the house in front of him held his full attention. Donovan was already there, looking rather pale. "This one's particularly gruesome," she said as soon as she spotted Sherlock. "Right up your alley, freak. Are you still here?" she asked, looking at something behind him.

"Wouldn't miss this for the world," John replied grimly. Sherlock turned to glance at his companion. His jaw was set in frustration, but at what? Sherlock resolved to find out later. Right now, he had a murder mystery to solve.

Sherlock crossed the yard and entered the house. There was the body, laying in on it's side in the middle of the floor. And there was Lestrade, trying his best not to look at it. "Sherlock," he began, his voice hoarse. His eyes were red, his skin was pale and sweaty, and the room smelled vaguely of vomit. Sherlock's heart beat faster in anticipation. What was it that had everybody so disgusted? He turned his eyes to the body.

It was a women, probably in her mid-thirties. It was hard to tell. There was something off about her. Sherlock needed more information. She was unmarried. No kids. Business woman. She was killed by a blow to the head, yet there was an enormous pool of blood behind her. He walked around to her other side to get a better look and stopped dead in his tracks.

There was a large slice in her back where somebody had dissected her.

"Oh hell," John gasped. Sherlock looked up at him. He had turned very pale, but luckily showed no signs of being sick. His eyes held so much pain. John wasn't like him. He couldn't help but care for the victim, despite Sherlock's protests that it did nothing for them.

"So, a murderer with a fetish for internal organs," Sherlock said calmly. "That's a new one."

John seemed to relax. "Any ideas?" he asked.

"A few," Sherlock replied. "We're dealing with a true psychopath. Somebody who has no connection to the victim, but probably stalked them to find out the best time to attack."

"How can you tell?" Lestrade asked.

"The door was knocked off of its hinges. Somebody forced their way in. Also, the overturned desk shows that he wanted to intimidate her, he clearly overpowered her by a long shot. Sadism."

"But why remove her insides?" John asked.

"A sense of superiority. Or possibly he wants to experiment with them."

"Why her?" Anderson piped up.

Sherlock frowned. When had he arrived? Or had he been there the whole time? Sherlock usually just blocked him out. "She's alone. She has no family." Anderson opened his mouth, presumably to ask how he knew that, so Sherlock continued. "No wedding ring. No photographs of family anywhere. No signs of children."

"Sir, we've got company," Donovan announced as she strode into the room. "It's UNIT."

Lestrade's brow furrowed. "What's UNIT doing here?"

"Sherlock," John whispered. "What's UNIT."

"Some kind of government agency," Sherlock whispered back. "I'm not sure what they do yet."

A man in his fifties made his way into the house followed by a women in her twenties. Sherlock focused on the man first. His hands suggested that he did a lot of field work, and he had the build of someone who did a lot of running. His suit, however, suggested that he was in a high position. Interesting. Sherlock zoned in on his tan lines. A traveller, then.

Next, he focussed on the women. She was a school teacher, said the chalk under her nails and barely visible on her dress pants. But she was also a traveller who got her hands dirty frequently.

Sherlock smiled slightly to himself. He enjoyed a challenge. "We're with UNIT," he announced, holding up a blank sheet of paper.

"That paper's blank," Sherlock informed them, perplexed. This case was getting more bizarre by the second.

"What?" both strangers asked at the same time, shocked.

"No, it says UNIT right here Sherlock," Lestrade sighed.

Sherlock glanced at John, who was staring at him oddly. He cleared his throat. "Ah. So it does. Apologies." _What was going on?_

"Doctor John Smith," the man announced. "And this is my carer, Clara Oswald."

"Carer?" John echoed.

"Yes, I care so he doesn't have to," Clara explained.

John Smith kneeled beside the body. "Interesting. Her internal organs have been completely removed."

"Any ideas?" Clara asked.

"A few. Oh I do hope it's not another giant wasp. Did I ever tell you about that?"

What? Sherlock's mouth dropped open slightly. Nobody else seemed to have heard. Giant wasp?

"Is there anything we can help you with?" Lestrade asked.

"Some privacy would be fantastic," Smith said without looking up.

Lestrade, Anderson, and Donovan hesitated, but they left. John moved to follow them, but Sherlock grabbed his elbow.

"Ever seen anything like this before, Doctor?" Clara asked.

"No," Smith replied. "Look at the size of its claws. This thing is massive."

"Claws?" Sherlock asked, thoroughly confused. He didn't like being confused. It felt odd.

"Yes, what knife could have made this cut?" Smith asked.

Upon taking a closer look, Sherlock had to admit that it did look like a claw mark. But that just didn't make sense.

Smith pulled a silver stick out of his coat and pointed it at the body. It lit up and made a whirring noise. This time, Sherlock really did do a double take. _What the hell?_

"Interesting," Smith commented, looking down. "Come on, Clara, let's return to the TARDIS now, we can come back tomorrow once we know more."

As the two strangers left, Sherlock could only stare after them. "So, who do you suppose they are?" John asked.

"I have no idea."


	2. John And Clara

A high-pitched ding rang out from the monitor. "Fascinating," the Doctor commented.

"What is it?" Clara asked. Though she tried, she couldn't make any sense of the flashing images and words.

"Something new," the Doctor replied.

Fear and excitement ran through Clara's nerves simultaneously. It was something brand new; something dangerous. Chasing after aliens never got old, not when you ran with the Doctor. Clara never wanted to stop.

"What do we know?" she asked.

The Doctor narrowed his eyes at the monitor, analyzing all the data. "It's large, reptilian, and dangerous."

An image of a dinosaur popped into Clara's head. "Not like a dinosaur," the Doctor quickly added. Clara chuckled softly. "I would guess they're related to the Slitheen somehow."

Ah, yes. The Slitheen. The Doctor had told Clara about them. Large, green, scaled monsters who wanted to reduce the Earth to rubble for their real estate business. "Bad news?" she asked.

"Of course," the Doctor answered, unable to keep a smile off his face.

"But where would a creature that large be hiding?" Clara mused.

"The Slitheen ripped humans apart and used their skin as a shell."

"Do you think that's what the creature was about to do to the women today?"

"No," the Doctor answered. "Or it would have done it." The monitor dinged again, causing him to furrow his brows and mutter something about odd readings.

"Well then," Clara said. "You keep doing whatever it is you're doing, and I'll go investigate."

**XOXOXOXOXOXOXOX**

They were out of milk again. Why were they always out of milk. John sighed, contemplating how many jugs to buy. Twenty ought to keep them satisfied for a while, right?

John grabbed two jugs of the shelf. As he turned around, he bumped into a woman who had been passing behind him. "Oh! Sorry," he muttered.

"That's alright," the women said while dusting her pants off. "Hey, you were at that crime scene earlier, weren't you?"

John blinked. Then he remembered. "Clara Oswald."

"Yeah. And you are?"

"Oh, sorry! John Watson."

"Nice to meet you, John," Clara said, staring at him with interest. "I'm actually new to London, maybe you could help me?"

"Right, of course!" John replied. "Just let me pay for this." He held up the milk.

Clara followed him to the check-out. John watched her suspiciously from the corner of his eye. He knew Sherlock didn't trust her, and he was rarely wrong. His friend was at home now, trying to research UNIT, but apparently the organization was a huge secret.

He payed and grabbed his milk. Clara followed him out of the store. "So what is it I can help you with?" he asked.

"I was just wondering if there were any large, abandoned places around. Like, you know, something that could be used as a hiding spot. But it has to be pretty big. And really out of the way."

"There's an old, run down store on the far reaches of town," John said.

"Can you show me?"

John signaled a cab, and the two climbed inside. "Baker Street," he told the driver. As the cab started driving, John's phone buzzed.

_You need to see this. Now. -SH_

_I'm investigating. I've the girl from UNIT with me. Don't scare her off. -JW_

"That's just my friend, Sherlock," John explained. "Flatmate actually."

That sparked her curiosity. John could see it in her eyes. "Oh, he was at the crime scene too?"

"Yes. And yes, he's always like that."

Clara laughed softly. "I'm sure he can't be any worse than the doctor."

"Who? Oh, Doctor Smith?"

"Er, yeah," Clara replied nervously.

John eyed her suspiciously. "So what's with the interest in the abandoned store?"

"Investigating," she answered quickly.

"What exactly is UNIT anyways?" John pressed. "I've never heard of it until today."

"It's a pretty secretive organization. Special operations, stuff like that."

What was she hiding? John frowned. Hopefully Sherlock would have some idea. Just then, the cab stopped. He asked the driver to wait for them as he opened the door and climbed out. Clara followed him up to the flat.

"Sherlock?" John called out upon entering. "Sherlock, Clara's here."

He spotted him on the couch, staring intently at the screen of John's laptop. When he saw Clara, he closed it quickly. "Ms. Oswald," he greeted coldly.

Clara seemed not to notice. "Please, call me Clara."

"Clara, this is Sherlock," John said quickly before he could insult her. "I'm just dropping off the milk, then we're going to go investigate the abandoned store on the other side of town."

"Sounds fun," Sherlock said softly. John didn't have to look at him to know that he was analyzing Clara. He stowed the milk in the fridge and returned to the sitting room. "Tell me," Sherlock continued, "how did a school teacher end up working for UNIT?"

Clara looked up quickly, alarmed. "How did you know that?"

"Chalk," Sherlock said simply.

"Er, right," Clara stuttered, clearly uncomfortable. "It's, ah, more of a side job than anything."

Sherlock and John exchanged a glance. "I see," Sherlock said. "Well, I've got lots of work to do. We need to discuss the case when you get back, John."

"Of course," John answered. "Won't be gone long. Come on, Clara."

She followed him back out of the flat and into the waiting cab. John gave the driver the address, and the pair lapsed into silence. Finally, Clara spoke up. "Your friend seems very interesting."

"Oh, he's not all bad," John replied.

"I'm sure he's not. Neither is Doctor Smith."

John gave her a genuine smile. He knew he shouldn't trust her, but he was starting to like her. "I'm never bored."

"Me either!" Clara said, returning the smile.

_We're a lot alike,_ John realized. This girl had an ordinary job, but abandoned her normal life at the first sign of danger. A school teacher, investigating a murder. "You don't really work for UNIT, do you?" John asked.

"What?" Clara asked quickly. The alarm was back in her voice.

"At least, not officially. You just follow Doctor Smith into danger."

Clara relaxed a little. "Something like that," she said with a slight smile.

"It's okay," John said. "I don't work for the police. I just follow behind Sherlock."

Clara laughed. "Yes, and we run. A lot."

"Tell me about it!" John exclaimed. Just then, the cab stopped. "Well, Clara, ready to investigate?"


	3. Investigating

Finally. He was onto something. After hours of searching through government sites, he had finally tracked down UNIT.

_UNified Intelligence Taskforce is a military operation under the authority of the United Nations designed to investigate and combat paranormal and extraterrestrial threats to the Earth._

Sherlock paused. Extraterrestrial? He clicked on the link and entered Mycroft's password. After a few seconds, he was taken to the UNIT data bases. He saw a long list of names he didn't recognize, presumably alien species. Cyberman. Dalek. Sontaran. Silurian. Vashta Nerada. Raxacoricofallapatorian. Weeping Angel. Silence. Sherlock held his breath. This was amazing.

He clicked on a few names and read through their files, committing everything he could to memory. After a few minutes, he focused his search on aliens with claws. The Raxacoricofallapatorians looked promising. They were rather large creatures who would have no problem breaking into somebody's house. But then, how would they stalk the person and remain unseen. He needed more information. He needed to examine the body again. After all, he couldn't have this Doctor Smith stealing the show.

Sherlock laughed out loud. Oh, this case was brilliant. He almost couldn't believe that he was researching actual, live aliens, but the evidence was there and there was no point in denying it. Though he doubted he would actually run into aliens after this case was done. He had never really cared much for what was beyond the stars, so he supposed that it didn't matter much.

He shifted his attention to the mysterious Doctor John Smith and his companion, Clara Oswald. Something was off about them. Why had they used a blank paper to get inside the house? And why did everyone seem to believe them?

A quick search through UNIT's members confirmed what Sherlock had already guessed. Doctor Smith and Clara Oswald were not working for UNIT. So, who were they? Sherlock laughed again. He loved a good challenge. He pulled out his phone to send a quick text to John.

_Be careful. Doctor Smith and Clara do not work for UNIT. Come back as soon as possible. -SH_

_Alright. I'll see what I can find out. -JW_

Sherlock began a google search of Doctor John Smith and Clara Oswald. Nothing. Well, the enigmatic pair would return to the crime scene at some point. When they did, he would be ready.

**XOXOXOXOXOXOXOX**

_This is definitely the place,_ Clara thought as the stench of formaldehyde hit her nose. _Somebody's storing something dead here._ "Have there been any other murders like this?" Clara asked. "Like, with the gaping hole in the back?"

"No," John answered. He checked his phone and frowned. Was that Sherlock again? Clara felt her heart pick up as John gave her an odd look. They knew something wasn't right. Especially Sherlock, who couldn't read the psychic paper. Better make this quick.

This was the perfect hiding spot. The whole building was in disrepair. Parts of the ceiling were missing, and the paint on the walls was pealing. Dust covered every surface. It was unlikely that anybody would happen to wander in by accident. Clara crossed the empty room to where the smell was strongest.

"It's coming from this area," Clara decided. She was standing in the corner furthest from the door. The stench was overpowering. She had to breathe through her mouth and cover her nose. "Perhaps there's something in the walls?"

"No," John answered. He knelt beside her and pried loose the floorboards. "Here."

Clara knelt next to him and examined the space. The smell hit her nose even stronger, causing her eyes to water. There, under the floor, was a small collection of human organs.

"We need to get out of here," Clara said quickly. "Now. Before they return." Her voice rose a pitch in fear.

"Agreed," John mumbled as he replaced the floor boards.

Clara grabbed his hand and dragged him outside. They ran down the street, back to the main roads. Despite everything, she felt a laugh bubble in her throat. John laughed too. When she felt that they were a safe distance away, she stopped running. "We are insane," Clara said, panting.

"Absolutely," John agreed.

"Thank you for your help," Clara continued, getting her breathing under control. "I really should be returning to the Doctor now."

"Will you be alright?" John asked.

"Yes," Clara said quickly. As much as she liked John, she had to get away from him before their cover was blown. "I'll just get myself a cab."

**XOXOXOXOXOXOXOX**

The sun was setting when Clara walked back through the TARDIS doors. "What did you find?" the Doctor asked quickly.

"Its hideout," she said. "An abandoned store on the other side of town. We saw the body parts."

The Doctor looked up from the monitor. "We?" he asked.

"Yes, I ran into John Watson from the crime scene," she explained. The Doctor looked at her closely. Her hair was sticking out, and her clothes were ruffled. But instead of fear, he found excitement in her eyes. She loved this as much as he did.

"The one who could see through the psychic paper?" he asked.

"No. His friend."

"We need to keep an eye out for that one. It takes a real lack of imagination to beat psychic paper." They couldn't risk blowing their cover if they wanted access to the body. Even though the Doctor really hated the idea of pretending to be UNIT, it was necessary.

He never was a big fan of UNIT. There were too many soldiers for his taste. In fact, he generally disliked military organizations in general. Why were there always soldiers?

_You were a soldier once too, don't you forget, _a voice that once belong to him reminded him. The Doctor quickly pushed that thought away. He was different now. He wasn't a soldier. So while he worked with UNIT occasionally, he didn't have to like them.

However, there was one face at UNIT that he was fond of. Martha Jones. Martha Smith, he corrected himself. Despite being in a high position, she refused to carry a gun with her. The Doctor was more proud of her than she would ever know.

"Did you get any further?" Clara asked, jarring him back to the present.

"Readings point to the Raxacoricofallapatorians, but I won't be certain until we return to the crime scene."

"Do you think we'll find something new?" Clara asked, leaning against the console.

"We know what to look for now," the Doctor replied.

A different memory found its way to the front of the Doctor's mind. Donna Noble, Agatha Christie, and the giant wasp. He smiled to himself. Now that had been an adventure. He wondered how Donna was doing. Perhaps he should check on her sometime, just to make sure she was happy.

He remembered her wedding day. That was also the day he died. Well, regenerated, but it had felt like dying. The Doctor watched Clara from the corner of his eye. Would she be having a wedding day soon? Would she marry- dare he think it- P.E.? He groaned internally. He knew she would. The TARDIS had seen it in her time stream. The Doctor could only hope to hold onto her for as long as possible.

Even now, as she was smiling and chasing after murderous reptiles with him, he was losing her. He lost everybody. That was his curse. Clara, as if sensing the change in his mood, touched his arm gently. "When's the last time you slept?" she asked.

The Doctor shrugged. "I don't really keep track."

"Well, you should try to sleep tonight. Something tells me we're going to be doing a lot of running tomorrow."

The pair grinned at each other. They loved the running part. The adrenaline, the sense of danger- it was the reason Clara stayed. Because as amazing as the universe was, the Doctor knew that Clara would only find it about half as interesting if it were safe. She was addicted to the rush. It was obvious.

"I'll try," the Doctor lied. He hated sleep. After two thousand years of living this dangerous lifestyle, he had no sleep without nightmares. "You did really good today."

Clara had started to walk away, but she turned back to him in surprise. "Really?" she asked, unable to keep the pleasure out of her voice.

"Really."

**XOXOXOXOXOXOXOX**

"John, when Doctor Smith held out the paper, what did you see?"

John was back in his armchair, looking through the UNIT data base. "UNIT identification," he replied.

Sherlock shook his head in frustration. "No. The paper was blank. I don't know how he did it, but I know it was blank."

John hmmmed thoughtfully. "You don't believe me?" Sherlock asked. He wasn't angry; just worried. John never doubted him.

"Of course I believe you. This is just a whole lot to take in."

Sherlock closed his eyes and searched through the information stored in his mind palace. It _was_ a lot to take in. He could hardly believe it himself. Aliens. In London. Dissecting people.

When Sherlock opened his eyes again, he was surprised to find himself alone. "John?" he called out.

"I'm here," came the answer from the kitchen. Sherlock went to join his friend. He was making tea. "I got takeout," he said. "And you're going to eat it."

Sherlock couldn't help but grin. He used to never eat during cases, but when John could tell that they had a really long one, he would force it. Over time, Sherlock complained less and less, taking it as a sign of his affection.

"You're also going to sleep. That crime scene will still be there in the morning."

"If I must," Sherlock grumbled. "Did you find anything?"

John pulled a bag of food out of the fridge. "Human organs being stored in that abandoned store on the other side of town," he answered casually.

Sherlock chuckled. This case was brilliant.


	4. The Alliance

The morning air was cool and damp against Sherlock's skin. He smiled slightly to himself. It was the perfect weather for investigating murder. His mood brightened further when he arrived at the crime scene. There was no sign of Doctor Smith.

John followed faithfully behind him as he walked up to the house, just as he always did. He had to be the only man in the world who would agree to hunt down a murderous, extra-terrestrial reptile with Sherlock. Nerves of steel, Sherlock had once told Lestrade. He had been right (of course, he was always right), and John proved it everyday. Sherlock was relieved to have finally found someone that could keep up with his lifestyle.

Sherlock pulled his attention away from John and examined the sidewalks. He could see faint scratch marks, possibly from a very large, clawed creature. The door, likewise, was covered in similar marks, as was the floor of the house. He had been so focused on the body yesterday, that he hadn't been paying as close attention as he normally would. It was probably the most gruesome death Sherlock had seen, of course he would be a little distracted.

"Do you see the claw marks?" Sherlock asked.

John stepped through the doorway behind him, his eyes taking in the scene. "Yes," he answered. "Sherlock, this creature is huge."

"Indeed. I would say its about eight feet tall, very bulky, yet also a fast runner."

The detective approached the spot where the body (which was now at the morgue) had been. He knelt down next to the pool of dried blood and began to feel the carpet with his fingers. They closed around something small and hard. A scale. He brought it up to his face to get a closer look.

He heard footsteps approaching and nearly groaned. Doctor Smith and Clara Oswald had arrived. Sherlock pocketed the scale and rose. He gave the pair a hard glare. Clara glanced down, uncomfortable, but Doctor Smith returned it. "What are you doing at my crime scene? You'll contaminate the evidence! Who are you?"

"Sherlock Holmes. Consulting detective," he replied cooly. "I was actually called here by the police."

Doctor Smith grit his teeth. "Fine, just try not to get in the way." He pulled out the silver stick from yesterday and began pointing it around the room. It whirred and glowed. It's a scanner, Sherlock realized. Some sort of alien technology. Perhaps stolen?

Sherlock narrowed his eyes and really examined Doctor Smith. "You're much older than you look. You're a traveler, going wherever the danger is. Oh, you're a soldier too, or at least you were at one point. Ah, I seem to have struck a nerve, so you feel guilty about something, which is why you are here hunting down aliens that would do harm. That's who you are, not a UNIT agent, though I already knew that."

Doctor Smith's eyes widened. "You're good, I'll give you that," he admitted.

Sherlock nodded before continuing. "And then there's your friend, the school teacher adrenaline-junkie. You've been traveling together for a long time now, long enough for her to grow accustomed to blood, and long enough for you to love her. No, don't bother trying to deny it. Even if it's purely platonic, you do love her. You'll give your life to protect her, and she would do the same."

Doctor Smith huffed in annoyance. "Yes, you're very smart," he said, his voice laced with bitterness. He was clearly uncomfortable. His movements had become stiff and agitated. Clara also was nervous. She was pulling at her clothes and hair, doing her best to look busy.

"Doctor, what are we looking for?" she asked.

The man opened his mouth to speak, but Sherlock rattled off his deductions before he got a chance. "You're looking for a pale green reptilian creature about eight feet tall, very wide, with superhuman strength and speed, calcium based, poisonous, female, remorseless killer, yet curious about human biology. A Raxacoricofallapatorian."

Doctor Smith and Clara were both gaping at him. Sherlock would be lying if he said that their reaction didn't please him. Of course, what pleased him even more was John's smile. John always smiled when he was being brilliant. "Oh, do close your mouths, you look like idiots," he remarked.

"Is there anything else?" Doctor Smith snapped in irritation.

"Yes. Your name is not John Smith. You simply go by the Doctor."

The Doctor froze. The anger was gone, replaced by fear. "Did you research me?" he asked softly.

"No," Sherlock replied. "I simply deduced. Though I did have to research UNIT, which is how John and I discovered the existence of aliens."

After a long, drawn out moment of silence, Clara finally said, "That's amazing." Jealousy flashed across the Doctor's eyes. Sherlock smirked. He had a feeling the Doctor was about to tell him to piss off. Most people did.

"Do people ever punch you in the face when you do that?" he asked. His voice was dripping with sarcasm. He had adopted a defensive posture- straight back, stiff muscles, crossed arms. The anger was back in his eyes.

"How did you know so much about the Raxafilico- er, whatever they are?" Clara asked.

Sherlock produced the scale from his pocket. "I observed."

The Doctor stretched out his hand. Sherlock quickly memorized every detail before giving it to him. He scanned it with his silver stick and frowned at the results. "He's right."

Sherlock huffed. "Of course I'm right."

From off to the side, John cleared his throat. "Look, before you two argue anymore, I would like to point out that we are on the same side." He met Clara's eyes and smiled encouragingly. "Perhaps we should work together."

_Their knowledge and experience would be useful, _Sherlock mused. "It does seem logical," he said. "Doctor?"

He bit his lip as he considered his options. "Alright," he finally agreed.

More footsteps echoed from outside. These sounded rushed, panicked even. Lestrade burst into the room, looking rather pale. _There's been another one, _Sherlock thought to himself.

"There's been another one," he announced, out of breath.

"What do you say, Doctor? Shall we investigate?"

What happened next took Sherlock by surprise. The Doctor actually smiled. "I wouldn't miss it for the world."

John was suddenly by his side. His blogger. Affection rushed through Sherlock at that thought. "Alright, John. The game is on."

**XOXOXOXOXOXOXOX**

He was lonely. She could smell it on him. He had no family, no friends, and nobody to miss him. An easy target.

From the shadows, she watched him enter his home. His neighbors were out. She had been stalking him for long enough, she decided. Now was the time to attack.

She took a deep breath and took off at a full sprint. She launched herself at the door, ripping it off its hinges easily. The man jumped at the sudden noise and spun around to face her.

The sweet scent of fear filled the room. She moaned with pleasure, savoring the delicious aroma. Fear was her favorite scent. It never got old. She knew it was sadistic of her to enjoy it so much, but she couldn't help the way she was wired.

The bloodlust began to overpower her. The last death had been to quick. She wanted to savor this one. She took a few steps closer to the man. He kept blinking and shaking his head, trying to focus on her, but he just couldn't. His eyes held an odd, vacant look. He knew she was there, but it was as if he couldn't see her. She grinned, adjusting the perception filter on her neck. She could smell the exact second she came into focus.

He tried to scream, but no sound came out. She lunged at him, knocking him to the ground. She dug her claw into his chest and sliced him open. It wasn't long before she was covered in blood. The light slowly faded from his eyes as he stopped struggling. It was a quicker death than what she had hoped for, but it would have to do.

She set to work dissecting him. This time, she cut his skull open. She was looking forward to studying the human brain. Perhaps she should take his eyes as well. She had always been curious about them.

In ten minutes, his neighbors would be arriving, and they would undoubtedly call the police. How tedious. She packed up and turned her perception filter back on. She had a lot of work to do.


	5. The Doctor Has A Plan

There was women puking in the bushes. The Doctor couldn't remember her name. She was pale and shaking. He crossed over to her and gently put a hand on her shoulder. Ever so slightly, she leaned into him, obviously grateful for the comfort. "Are you alright?" the Doctor asked softly.

"I will be," she replied, doing her best to keep her voice from shaking. "Thank you."

The women heaved again, but nothing came out. Her stomach had been emptied. The Doctor said nothing as he rubbed circles soothingly on her back, waiting for her to calm down. "I'm sorry," she finally managed to say.

Tires crunched on the pavement. A door opened and closed. Sherlock and John had arrived. The Doctor continued to rub her back as he watched them approach. "In my line of work, I've seen many horrors that prevent me from sleeping at night. This case is up there among the worst of them. You're very brave for being here. What's your name?"

"Sally Donavan, sir," she replied.

"It's nice to meet you, Sally. I'm the Doctor."

Clara had been watching the scene with interest. A faint smirk rested on her lips. She knew that he had so much compassion, even though he tried to hide it, and he suspected that she understood that too. Because after two thousand years of his dangerous lifestyle, he had suffered more heartbreaks than he cared to remember.

When John and Sherlock had joined him, the group of investigators made their way into the house. The sight that greeted them was even worse than the previous murder. The corpse of a man lay on the floor. There was so much blood. The stench was overpowering. His chest had been viciously sliced. His head had been cut open more carefully, leaving his open, empty skull exposed. His eyes were also missing. Blood pooled around his sockets.

Something was gripping the Doctor's elbow tightly, pulling him out of his shock. He turned to see Clara, pale-faced and wide-eyed. Though Clara was generally not very squeamish, it was easy to see how the sight of the corpse was affecting her. He placed his hand over hers and squeezed.

John Watson had also gone pale, and he was doing his best to avoid looking at the body. Sherlock, however, was kneeling beside the victim, eyes soaking in all the information. "She bled out from the slash in her chest," he said. He stood up and swept the room with his eyes. "Yes, this is our killer."

Having regained some composure, John began to examine the body with gloved hands. "It doesn't appear that anything is missing besides his brain and eyes."

The grip on the Doctor's arm let up. He released Clara's hand and began scanning the room with his sonic screwdriver. All the readings pointed to the same alien. He looked up at Clara, who was examining the doorway with a mixture of awe and horror.

"Something's different," Sherlock announced. "This time, the creature was hungrier. She enjoys this."

"How can you tell?" John prompted.

"The scratch marks are deeper, plus the man didn't make it very far into the house before she attacked."

The Doctor turned his eyes back to the body. The whole room seemed be red with blood. He looked down at his hands uncomfortably. The whole situation was reminding him of the blood that covered them. There was so much, just like the corpse. He squeezed his eyes tightly shut, trying to suppress the memories inside.

A warm hand touched his shoulder. He knew it was Clara without having to look up. He couldn't look up. He couldn't meet her eyes. When she pulled him into a hug, he didn't have the strength to complain.

When she withdrew, he was finally ready to look at her. Her eyes were warm and understanding. "Alright?" she asked quietly.

The Doctor nodded. "So, two questions," he began, stepping into the center of the room. "First- why? Why is she doing this?"

"She's studying us," Clara supplied.

"She also enjoys it," Sherlock pipped up.

The Doctor nodded his approval. "Second question- is she working alone?"

This time, it was John who answered. "Yes, otherwise we would have run into her friends when we searched her hideout. There would also probably be evidence of more than one alien at the crime scene."

Sherlock's eyes lit up with pride. Suddenly, the man reminded the Doctor a bit of himself. John was his Clara.

"Very good," the Doctor replied.

"But how does a creature that large run around London unnoticed?" Sherlock mused aloud.

"Perception filter, perhaps?" Clara asked.

"That's what I thought as well," the Doctor replied, smiling slightly.

"We need a plan of attack," John stated.

"Well, we know where she lives. Why not just go and shoot her?" Sherlock asked.

"No," the Doctor responded vehemently. Sherlock raised an eyebrow at his violent reaction. His eyes were doing that thing again- that thing where he was picked apart and mentally dissected. "We take her back to her own planet where she can be tried for her crimes."

"Or we could just kill her ourselves. It would be much simpler," Sherlock pressed.

The two men stared each other down for a minute before the sound of Clara's phone drew the Doctor's eyes away. "Is that P.E.?" he groaned.

"He's not a P.E. teacher," Clara hissed before stalking away to answer.

The Doctor returned his gaze to Sherlock. He was no longer glaring. Instead, his eyes held a certain understanding. It unnerved the Doctor that this stranger could tell so much about him just by looking at him. "Alright," Sherlock agreed. "Your plan."

He blinked in surprise. "Er, yes. Of course. I should have everything we need in the TARDIS."

**XOXOXOXOXOXOXOX**

To say that Sherlock was surprised would be an understatement.

When he turned the corner and saw the blue Police Box, his eyes widened in surprise. "That's yours, I'm assuming," he said, addressing the Doctor. "Not exactly inconspicuous."

"I like it," the Doctor replied, his voice full of pride.

It was amazing how much regular people saw without observing. There was an old-fashioned police box on the street corner, and nobody had questioned it. Incredible. Sherlock wondered if that was how the Doctor's paper worked.

The Doctor put a hand on the box. The gesture was almost loving. So, the box served as some sort of transport, then. Something he had owned for a long time. The Doctor pushed open the door. "Come on in," he invited.

Even Sherlock could not have deduced what was about to happen.

He stepped inside and blinked, sure that he could not trust his eyes. A large control room spread out before him with hallways leading into the vast expanse that was the TARDIS. The great genius was at a loss for words. All he could do was stare as the Doctor danced around the console, grinning madly.

"Bloody hell," John said from somewhere behind him. "It's bigger on the inside."

The Doctor's smile grew even wider. "You know, two thousand years, and I'm still not tired of hearing that response."

Since he was chasing a murderous alien lizard around London, Sherlock supposed that he could trust his senses on this. It was incredible. "What are you?" Sherlock asked.

"I'm a Time Lord. The very last of my kind," he replied.

"And the others all died in the war you fought in?"

A dark shadow crossed the Doctor's face. "They were trapped in another dimension," he said softly.

Sherlock nodded, his eyes flying around the TARDIS, taking it all in. There was the screen with numbers labeled as time coordinates, a great number of nobs and levers, and a mess of cords strewn about underneath the console. He began to get a vague idea of how to fly it. "So you're a time traveler then," he stated. "Never thought I would be saying that sentence."

John let out an unbelieving laugh. "You're serious?" he asked.

"Of course, John, do keep up. He's a two thousand year old Time Lord with a monitor measuring time coordinates in possession of technology well above our standards."

Clara cleared her throat. "Enough showing off, Doctor. I assume you have a plan?"

With a clap of his hands, the Doctor spun around and bounded up a flight of stairs, taking the steps two at a time. It was funny, Sherlock thought, that a man so old could have that much energy. "Electricity!" he shouted, as he bounced about, in search of something. He finally came to a stop as he opened a cabinet. "And vinegar," he added, pulling out a bottle.

Beside him, Clara sighed irritably. "Yeah, any time you want to fill us in would be great."

For a moment, Sherlock stared at the bottle in the Doctor's hand, his mind racing. "Oh of course! They're allergic to vinegar. Calcium based."

The Doctor bounded over to the other side of the TARDIS and picked up something that looked like a copper probe. "I can hook this up to the TARDIS and send a jolt through our alien friend to knock her out. The vinegar can be used in an emergency," he explained quickly. He leapt over the railing and nearly dove under the console. He wrapped a copper wire around the probe and hooked it into what appeared to be an outlet. Sherlock hoped that the Doctor wasn't about to blow up the TARDIS.

As a finishing touch, the Doctor dug a copper hook out of his pocket and attached it to the probe. "Like going fishing," he commented. "We're going to park the TARDIS right outside the building. Clara, when I tell you to push the button-" he pointed at a small, red switch- "you push it. Sherlock, John, you'll be holding the vinegar, and I'll hook the probe onto her. Should be easy."


	6. Dadre

The TARDIS landed with a familiar whirring sound. The Doctor held onto his homemade weapon tightly. He had to admit that he was a little nervous. There were so many things that could go wrong. He mentally shook himself. Now wasn't the time for doubting. He had to be strong.

Clara's fingers lightly traced the switch he had told her to press. She didn't look afraid at all. It worried the Doctor just how much faith she had in him sometimes. With as high of a pedestal as she had put him on, the only possibility was that he would fall hard.

He pushed those thoughts away quickly. He could worry later. Now, he had to focus. Sherlock and John were both holding bottles of vinegar, ready to attack in an emergency, although the Doctor wanted to avoid killing if at all possible. Both of them were calm, as if they weren't about to fight an eight-foot reptile armed only with vinegar.

The plan seemed simple enough. The Doctor needed to get close enough put the hook into her skin, or possibly around her neck or arm. Clara would flip the switch, sending a jolt of electricity through the wire and into the Raxacoricofallapatorian, effectively knocking her out. Clara would then shut the electricity off so they could drag her onto the TARDIS. From there, it would only take a minute to drop her off on her home planet.

The Doctor pushed open the door. He walked as silently as possible, approaching the old building. Even from outside, he could smell the rot and formaldehyde. The door had been left open carelessly. After checking to make sure Sherlock and John were with him, he entered cautiously.

There she sat in all her glory. She wasn't a Slitheen, the Doctor could instantly recognize. Even with her back turned to them, the differences were there. The grip on his hook tightened as he continued to step closer.

"Oh, I know you're there," the alien called out in a bored tone. "I can smell you, you know." She turned to face them. A bone chilling grin spread out across her face. Her eyes were large and black. The Doctor could feel the two men tensing beside him.

Without thinking, the Doctor ran at the alien. She was too stunned to move as the Doctor looped the hook around her neck. "Now Clara!" he shouted.

That's where it all went to Hell.

The alien lunged for the Doctor and grabbed onto his arm. His eyes widened in horror before the electricity hit him. His muscles spasmed as pain shot through every nerve. He tried to call for Clara, but his mouth wouldn't work. Somewhere in his mind, he was vaguely aware of himself falling.

Just as suddenly as it started, the pain stopped. His two hearts struggled to keep beating. The Doctor crawled backwards a few feet before collapsing. "Clara," he whispered softly as he blacked out.

**XOXOXOXOXOXOXOX**

"Clara, shut it off!" John shouted.

Sherlock's grip on the bottle tightened as he watched the scene before him. The Doctor crawled away from the Raxacoricofallapatorian, who in turn was staggering away from him. She grabbed the hook and threw it to the ground, snarling menacingly.

Clara was suddenly at his side, wielding a kitchen knife. "Doctor!" she cried out as she spotted him. She charged towards him recklessly, but the alien was too distracted to notice. "Oh, Doctor!" She knelt down beside him and placed her free hand on his face. "Please, wake up! We need you."

John had opened his bottle. "This counts as an emergency," he said before taking off towards the alien. As he moved to throw the bottle's contents on her, she regained her composure and knocked her arm into his. The bottle flew out of his arm and shattered on the ground, the vinegar inside spilling harmlessly onto the floor.

It took Sherlock a second to react. He opened his own bottle and rushed towards the Raxacoricofallapatorian. She grabbed John's arm and pulled him into her. "Take another step and I'll break his arm," she hissed.

Sherlock froze in horror. John groaned. "Sherlock, just kill her," he pleaded.

The alien's grip tightened. "Throw down the bottle," she demanded.

Sherlock complied without hesitating. The alien smiled smugly and placed another hand on John's shoulder. There was a sickening snap as she twisted his arm. "No," Sherlock screamed as John cried out in pain. It took all of his will not to rush forwards, but he couldn't risk it. The next thing the alien snapped could be his neck.

"Ooh, I like this one," she crooned. "I think I'll keep him."

John had stopped struggling against her grasp. The situation seemed hopeless. "John," Sherlock whispered. His voice shook with fear.

The alien began to back away slowly, her eyes focused on Sherlock. From the corner of his eye, he could see Clara moving with the knife in her hand. He focused on the Raxacoricofallapatorian and gave no sign that he could see her.

"Oh, sweetheart," she sighed. "This is pathetic. You really thought you humans could kill me? I'm Dadre Poss-Ann Treffory-Kile Amorian. I'm one of the most wanted Raxacoricofallapatorians in the universe. You don't stand a chance."

Clara was behind her now. She plunged the knife into her side. Dadre screeched and let go of John. Sherlock ran to him and grabbed his waist. He pulled him away from the alien as she turned to face Clara. Blood poured from the wound as she removed the knife. Dadre brought up her hand. Clara flinched slightly, but she held her ground. She raised the knife again, but before she could stab, Dadre shot a claw-like dart into her side. Clara's face paled as she fell to the ground.

Dadre turned again to face Sherlock. "Well, I would love to stay and continue this, but I really must be going. Don't bother following me. Your friends are in danger." She pressed her hand to her side in an attempt to stop the bleeding before running past him and out the door faster than what should be possible.

"Sherlock," Clara gasped. She had managed to crawl back over to the Doctor, who was still unconscious. "You have to help him," she pleaded. "His hearts are failing."

He let go of John and ran to her side. She was much too pale and weak for the size of her wound. "You've been poisoned. Don't try to move," he said as calmly as he could manage. He reached down and lifted the Doctor over his shoulder. "Don't move," he repeated. "I'll come back for you."

"Get him to the TARDIS," Clara panted. "I know what to do."

Sherlock nodded and turned to John. "Can you walk?" he asked.

"It's just my arm that's broken," he responded. His voice was weak. There was blood covering his arm, but Sherlock was too tired to identify where it was coming from.

"Come on, then. Into the TARDIS."

Sherlock managed to carry the heavy Doctor inside the blue box and lay him across some seats by the console. John sat down next to him. "Get Clara," he said weakly.

Sherlock nodded again and raced back into the abandoned building. Clara hadn't moved thankfully. She was still holding onto consciousness. Sherlock gently scooped her up and carried her to the waiting TARDIS.

"Take me to the console," she panted. Her eyes searched the buttons and knobs. "Other side," she said. Her voice was failing her. Sherlock brought her around the console. Finally, she seemed to find the button she was looking for. With weak fingers, she reached out and pressed it. "Emergency protocol," she explained before passing out.

The TARDIS door slammed shut as the ship whirred to life. Sherlock sat next to John, still holding the unconscious Clara as they were taken far away.


	7. The Best Hospital In The Universe

Clara blinked her eyes open. She was cold, even though she was in a bed with white blankets piled on top of her. Everything around her was white. She struggled to remember where she was. There was a beeping sound growing steadily faster. _A heart monitor, _Clara realized. _Alright, I'm at a_ _hospital_.

The cold feeling seemed to be coming from her elbow. Clara shifted the blankets until she could see the I.V. attached to her arm. She followed the tubes up to the bag, which was filled with some kind of misty liquid. Her clothes were also gone, replaced by white hospital scrubs. It was more dignified than a gown, Clara noted with relief.

Clara racked her brain. Where was she? She could remember a pain in her side as she fell to the floor. There were two large, black eyes and pale green scales. All her energy was drained. There was blood. A knife was in her hands. There was Sherlock, carrying her. Then there was blackness.

A nurse entered her room, startling her. "Where am I?" Clara asked, her voice rising a pitch in panic.

"You are safe," the nurse replied. "A blue box brought you here. Do you remember what happened?"

The nurse stood beside Clara's bed. She pulled the blankets away from her arm. Clara could now see the clamp from the heart monitor on her finger. The nurse removed it, and the beeping stopped.

"Doctor!" she gasped. Suddenly, the memories came rushing back to her.

"He's here. He's safe," the nurse said soothingly as she took Clara's hand. "Everybody's safe, thanks to you, dear."

Clara squeezed the women's hand with relief. "Can I see him?" she asked.

"He's asleep now," the nurse answered. "But as soon as the antidote is completely in your system, I'll take you to him. This is your last dose."

Clara sighed and relaxed. She let go of the women's hand and pushed herself into a sitting position. She scanned the nurse quickly. Her eyes came to rest on her name tag. Kylie Breton, she was called. "How long was I out?"

"About two hours," Kylie replied. "You're very strong. You managed to keep conscious through the Raxacoricofallapatorian venom for long enough to get your friends here just in time. A minute longer, and either you or that Doctor fellow might have been dead."

"Are the others okay?" Clara asked, suddenly remembering John and Sherlock.

"Yes," Kylie answered. "Another nurse set John's arm when he came here, and they're working on repairing the bone right now. Sherlock, besides a little bit of shock, managed to escape the encounter unscathed. He won't leave John's side."

Clara grinned. "Thank you, Kylie."

Kylie returned the smile and set about removing her I.V.. The antidote had been emptied into her blood, and Clara could feel her strength returning. "I can't believe it's only been two hours. It feels like I've slept for days," she commented.

Kylie chuckled lightly. "The venom will do that to you," she replied. She ripped the tape off Clara's arm. It stung a little, but she hardly noticed. Her mind was racing through the earlier events as the nurse removed the tube and stuck a band-aid over her arm. "Would you like to see him now?"

Clara nodded eagerly. She pushed the blankets off and jumped to her feet. As soon as she was standing, her vision went blurry and her legs wobbled unsteadily. She grabbed onto Kylie's arm. The nurse gently steadied her. Clara blinked a few times and the room stopped spinning. "Easy there," Kylie said soothingly. "Try not to move so fast."

Clara nodded again in agreement. The nurse took her hand and led her out of her room and down the hall. "He was almost in cardiac arrest by the time you got here," Kylie explained. "We had to start his left heart, and by the time we got that beating on its own, his right heart had given out. He is very lucky he has two hearts. He might not have made it otherwise."

The tile was cold against Clara's bare feet. She suppressed a shiver. The nurse led her around the corner and to the end of the hall. They passed through a set of double doors into a much larger room.

The first thing Clara noticed was the steady, double heart beat coming from the monitor. The second thing she noticed was a defibrillator sitting on a table along the left wall. Finally, her eyes fell upon the form in the bed in the center of the room. It was unmistakably her Doctor. She approached him as quickly as her legs would allow. Kylie pulled a chair away the table and brought it to the bed.

Clara thanked Kylie as she nearly collapsed into the chair. The Doctor lay on his side, facing her. In sleep, his face was more relaxed than Clara could ever remember seeing him. He was also wearing the same white scrubs. Absentmindedly, she grabbed his hand. It was warm, she noticed with relief. Color had returned to his cheeks. She tried not to remember laying there next to him on the floor of that abandoned store. He had been so cold and pale; so close to death.

"You're a bloody idiot," she whispered. "But I'm glad you're okay."

"I'll give you two some privacy," Kylie announced softly before leaving the room.

Without really realizing what she was doing, Clara began to stroke his knuckles softly with her thumb. With her other hand, she brushed the Doctor's hair (damp with sweat) out of his face. Gently, she kissed his forehead, overcome with affection. "You're going to be alright," she whispered.

The Doctor's eyes twitched beneath their lids. He groaned slightly. Clara intertwined their fingers together. "You're okay," she said softly, hoping to soothe him.

"Clara?" he gasped. His eyes scrunched up even tighter.

"I'm here," Clara responded. She placed the back of her hand on his cheek. "I'll always be here."

Slowly, the Doctor opened his eyes. He squeezed her hand as he spoke. "Clara? Are you alright?"

She smiled and stroked his hair. "Yeah. I am."

The Doctor glanced around the room. "This is the Sisters of the Infinite Schism. Best hospital in the universe. But if we're here, that means you activated the emergency protocol." The Doctor looked into Clara's eyes. She could see the fear growing stronger with every second. "What happened?"

"As soon as I heard John yelling to shut the electricity off, I knew something was wrong. I grabbed a kitchen knife-" (the Doctor chuckled at that) "- and ran out to help. You had passed out, I'm assuming from the electric shock, and the alien, her name is Dadre by the way, looked like she was barely standing. I rushed over to you while John tried to attack her with vinegar, but she knocked the bottle away and grabbed him. Sherlock tried to go after her next but stopped when she threatened to break John's arm. Well, she broke his arm anyways, then tried to take him hostage. I snuck up behind her though and stabbed her, so she let John go. That's when she poisoned me and - ow! Doctor, my hand!"

The Doctor quickly loosened his grip. "Sorry," he apologized sheepishly. "Continue."

"So, Dadre ran off, and Sherlock managed to drag us all back into the TARDIS. I pressed the emergency button just before I blacked out."

The Doctor sat up quickly. "She got away?"

Clara gently pushed him back into the bed. "Yes, I'm sorry. She did. No, don't try to sit up. Your hearts were stopped. You need to rest now. We'll come up with a new plan when you're better."

The door opened, and Clara turned to see Kylie walk in. "Oh good, he's awake. Clara, Sherlock's asking to see you."

The Doctor released her hand. "Go. I'll be fine."

**XOXOXOXOXOXOXOX**

Sherlock hadn't taken his eyes off John since they arrived.

Even when the TARDIS had landed and the nurses had rushed in, Sherlock couldn't focus on them. He had to make sure John was okay. Even when he was rushing to tell the nurses everything that had happened, his eyes were on John.

Thankfully, the nurses could tell that he wasn't about to leave John anytime soon. They let him follow them into an empty hospital room, even pulling up a chair for him to sit in. They didn't try to kick him out when they put John under and set his arm. For the most part, they just ignored him.

He flinched when a warm hand touched his shoulder, but he still did not look away. "Your friend will be alright in a few hours," she said. "We're going to inject him with a medication we developed which will make his bone cells regenerate faster and bind together."

Sherlock nodded. His eyes held an emptiness that unnerved the nurses around him, except for this one. Ebba was her name, Sherlock noted. She wrapped a white blanket around his shoulders. For shock, Sherlock thought to himself.

When the nurses were done, Ebba helped Sherlock pull his chair closer to John's bed. "He's going be okay," she told him. "He just needs to sleep while the medication works."

And with that, she left him alone. Hesitantly, Sherlock grabbed John's uninjured hand. His fingers found their way to the sleeping man's pulse. The strong thumping comforted him. John was alive. John was safe.

His face was relaxed. If Sherlock ignored the I.V., he could almost pretend that his friend wasn't hurt. His bloodstained jumper had been removed sometime before the nurses started the medication. He was now wearing perfectly clean, white scrubs.

Minutes passed by in silence. Occasionally, a nurse would check up on John to make sure he was healing alright, but Sherlock never acknowledged them. He never released John's hand, and he never looked away.

At about the two hour mark, a nurse named Kylie walked in. "How is he?" she asked.

"Alright," Sherlock replied. His voice was distant.

"Clara's awake now," she informed him.

Clara. That was right, she had been poisoned right after she stabbed Dadre. She saved John, Sherlock suddenly realized. Without her, that monster would have taken him. And she nearly died because of it.

"Can I see her?" Sherlock asked.

"Of course. Shall I fetch her?"

Sherlock nodded, still not looking up. He heard her leave, and the room fell back into silence.

It wasn't long before he heard different, slower footsteps entering. "Clara," Sherlock greeted. "Are you sure you should be up?"

"I'm fine," Clara replied. Her voice was soft but steady. "Are you alright?"

Sherlock finally tore his eyes away from John to observe Clara. She was still weak; it was a wonder the nurses were letting her walk around. Despite that, she was still concerned for him. "I'm not the one who was poisoned," he replied. "Or electrocuted. Or had my arm broken."

"No," Clara agreed, leaning on the doorway. "But you are the one who had to witness all those things and drag us back to the TARDIS."

Sherlock stood and crossed the room to Clara. He took the blanket from his shoulders and wrapped it around her. She accepted it gratefully. He took her arm and slowly led her over to the chair. Her legs shook, but she made it without falling.

Once she had settled, Sherlock sat on the edge of John's bed. She gently placed her hand on his knee. Sherlock was confused by the gesture. Did she want comfort? She was starting to go pale again. Comfort wasn't Sherlock's strong point, but he would try for Clara. He took her hand and let his thumb trace circles on her palm.

She gave his hand a tight squeeze, and Sherlock realized that she had been trying to comfort him. Oh. Sherlock scanned her in confusion. He had no idea why she wanted to help him when he was the only one who had escaped uninjured.

"You care about him pretty deeply," Clara said. Ah, so that was it. Sherlock nodded in agreement.

"I wanted to thank you," Sherlock said. "What you did back there, when you stabbed the alien. You saved him. Thank you." The words tumbled uncontrollably out of his mouth. This was another thing he wasn't great at.

Clara smiled and squeezed his hand again. "Your welcome," she replied.

"How's the Doctor?" Sherlock asked, changing the subject.

"He's awake. The nurses are with him now," she said.

"Oh, did I pull you away from him?" Sherlock asked awkwardly. "I'm sorry, you shouldn't have come-"

"Hey," Clara interrupted. "I wanted to come. And frankly, I'm glad I did. You need me more than he does."

Sherlock blushed slightly and looked down. "I don't need anyone. You can go back to him."

Clara snorted slightly. "You two are so much alike," she said. "I've been meaning to ask you something. Back at the victim's house, it looked like you and the Doctor were about to fight over how to deal with the alien. So why did you back down?"

Sherlock considered her question for a moment. "While the end result is the same, killing her ourselves would be like an act of war. Whatever war he fought in has left him scarred so much that he hates the idea of war, even to the point of hating himself for having once been apart of it."

Clara's eyes dropped to her lap. "Yes. You're right. I've seen it."

The two fell into a comfortable silence. Sherlock wasn't sure at what point he decided that he liked Clara, but it couldn't be helped now. The way she looked at him reminded him of John. She was affectionate and concerned for him. Sherlock nearly laughed out loud. That was two people who actually cared about his well being. Well, he supposed Lestrade and Ms. Hudson cared too, so that made four people who cared about him. Honestly, it was four more people than Sherlock ever expected.

Sherlock looked down at John. His eyelids were twitching. "John?" Sherlock asked. He took the injured man's hand again and checked his pulse. It was faster than earlier. "He's waking up," Sherlock told Clara.

"Great. I'll see if the Doctor is well enough to walk down here. We need to discuss a new plan as soon as possible."


	8. Mousetraps

"There's been another victim," Clara announced as she strode back into the room.

The band of investigators had gathered in John's hospital room while his arm was still healing. He was awake now, but he couldn't move from his bed. Sherlock sat next to him, and the Doctor sat in the chair. Clara crossed the room and perched on the chair's arm. Her face was grim.

Clara had gone to the TARDIS to phone Lestrade for any new infromation on the case. John had stopped wondering by now how the TARDIS was possible. They needed a plan B, and they needed it fast.

"Jeannette Frazier. She was a teacher at Coal Hill. I knew her."

John recognized the name. "Coal Hill. That's further East isn't it?" Clara nodded in confirmation. "Wait, you told me that you were new to London."

"Er, did I? I guess so. I'm sorry," she apologized sheepishly. "I wanted you to know as little about me as possible, but I'm never out in that part of London so I had no idea where Dadre could be hiding."

John shrugged (or at least tried to without moving his left arm). "Fair enough," he replied.

Beside him, Sherlock brought his legs up to cross them in front of him. He clasped his hands under his chin, and John could tell he had descended into the mind palace. "He's, uh, very deep in thought," John explained. "We won't be able to talk to him for a while."

The Doctor sighed in irritation. "The last time I had to capture a Raxacoricofallapatorian, she ended up staring into the heart of the TARDIS and turning into an egg. Another time, I took a few out with a missile." He grimaced. "I was much younger then. Much crueler. I was still fresh from the war."

"Two sided," Sherlock murmured. "John, we need a mousetrap."

"What's that, Sherlock?" John asked. When Sherlock didn't acknowledge him, John placed a hand on his shoulder. Sherlock jumped while blinking rapidly. "What did you say about a mousetrap?"

Before Sherlock could answer, the Doctor leaped from his chair as if being propelled by a rocket. "A mousetrap!" he shouted. "Ah, that's brilliant!"

"We need her to let her guard down," Sherlock explained quickly. "If two of us allow ourselves to be captured, the other two could sneak up behind."

Clara had settled into the chair while the Doctor was pacing. "Would that work?" she asked.

"We saw how easy it was for you to sneak up behind her. We just have to engage her in pursuit, then split up. Whoever she chases will be caught, while the other two double back."

The Doctor laughed suddenly, drawing all eyes to him. "With the stun guns I have on the TARDIS, we'll need two hits to take a Raxacoricofallapatorian down. When her attention is on the back side, the person on the front side draws their gun and shoots."

John saw a few places where that plan could also go to Hell, but he trusted Sherlock's judgement. Living with the genius was like jumping through a waterfall to get to a cave behind it. If John hesitated and failed to jump with full force, he could be caught in the torrent and drowned or smashed against the rocks at the bottom. But if he charged behind Sherlock recklessly without question, he would jump through safely to the other side.

"Doctor, are you forgetting how fast she can run?" Clara asked. Her voice should have been shaking with fear, but it wasn't. She also held no false confidence. She was genuinely calm about the situation.

"She'll drag it out," Sherlock replied. "She enjoys it."

The door swung open, and Kylie stepped into the room. "How are you feeling, John?" she asked.

He hadn't even noticed when the I.V. stopped. "Much better," he replied. "This is amazing."

Kylie set about removing the tube. As amazing as this place was, John hoped that this plan B of theirs didn't just land them all back here; or worse, in the morgue. In just four hours, his broken arm had been completely healed. Now he was about to rush back into danger without missing a beat. 'You're addicted to the rush,' Sherlock had once told him. He was right, as John proved over and over again. Even now, he wasn't afraid. He was excited.

With the I.V. out, only a small band-aid showed that his arm had been injured at all. Even the scratches from Dadre's claws had healed. He shuddered as he remembered the feel of her digging into his arm. That was a scenario he was hoping to avoid this time around.

"You all are free to go," Kylie informed them. "Just don't do anything rash and end up back here in an hour."

The four investigators looked at each other and laughed.

**XOXOXOXOXOXOXOX**

Dadre knew that she should stay low, but she was powerless against the bloodlust. She didn't even take anything from the human she had killed. Instead, she tore her body to shreds, venting all her frustration.

At some point, early on, it occurred to Dadre that she should feel some remorse for murdering her victims. Even after all these years, she had yet to feel even a sliver of guilt. It was no surprise that she was the most wanted criminal back home. Everyone was terrified of her.

She had been an assassin, but she found that job surprisingly dull. Back then, she had been forced to make clean kills. There was no playing with the victim. Dadre killed for the fun of it. She loved the rush of bloodlust as she could made her victims suffer. She loved the game of cat and mouse, especially when she held the mice in their trap with no hope of escape.

Studying the bodies was an added bonus. Dadre was fascinated by the internal workings of alien species, even if she had no interest in them besides killing them. So she dissected each figurative mouse she caught.

Her side still hurt from where the human girl had stabbed her. Dadre had gotten to careless. The humans were much smarter than she had given them credit for, plus she hadn't expected to see the Time Lord. Normally, Dadre would take the chance and escape, but her pod had crashed into the British countryside late at night, leaving her stranded here.

Dadre considered herself lucky that she hadn't been wearing the perception filter when the humans attacked. It would never have survived the shock that Time Lord had given her. Without it, she wouldn't be able to continue roaming the streets of London.

The humans wouldn't let her go. They would come for her again. This time, Dadre would have to kill them. A cold grin spread across her face. She would enjoy it.

**XOXOXOXOXOXOXOX**

The familiar humming of the TARDIS was a relief to Clara. The old girl (as the Doctor called her) had been growing on her. "I've never been so happy to see you," she replied, stroking the console gently.

The Doctor muttered something under his breath about a mirror. Clara ignored him as she made her way to the other side. "Out of curiosity, how were we able to afford the best hospital in the universe."

"Oh, let's just say that I paid long ago," the Doctor replied vaguely.

His answer would have to be enough. Clara knew better than to push when he used that tone of voice. "Ready to take us back into danger?" she asked the TARDIS.

She noticed John giving her an amused look. A long time ago, she might have been embarrassed, but now she only smiled. "He's rubbed off on me, unfortunately."

"Clara, do you know where the stun guns are?" the Doctor asked.

"Sure do. I'll go fetch them. John, wanna help?"

John nodded eagerly, unable to resist the chance to explore the TARDIS. Clara beckons him to follow her down the long hallway, and he does.

As they walk down the winding hall, Clara studies his face. His eyes are alight with wonder. He looks years younger, childlike even. They pass open doors leading into bedrooms, libraries, kitchens, swimming pool. The halls are much darker than they used to be, but the TARDIS turns the ceiling lights on as they go. She is pleased to have John aboard. Clara can feel her gentle hum of approval.

"She likes you," Clara commented. "Lucky. She used to hate me."

John smiled so innocently and so brightly that Clara wondered if he was even aware of it. "How can you tell?"

"When you travel with the Doctor long enough, you learn to understand her," she explained.

"How long have you been traveling with him?"

"Oh, a few years now," Clara answered. "Though it seems like its been no time at all."

Clara turned the corner into an even darker hall. "We must be getting close," she said. "He hates guns, you see. That's why he's got them as far away as possible."

They fell back into silence. Finally, the pair reached a room at the end of the hallway. A large, metal door loomed in front of Clara. She reached out somewhat hesitantly to turn the cold doorknob.

"She doesn't like us being here," she said to John as she pushed open the door. The room was almost pitch black. Clara felt her way along the wall where the stun guns were hanging. She grabbed them and almost ran back to the doorway. She didn't like being in there either. The room felt forbidden.

She shut the door behind her quickly and handed John one of the guns. He followed her back down the hallway. It was a relief to see the lights come back on. "So, how long have you and Sherlock known each other?"

"A little more than a year now. It feels like I've known him forever."

"Yeah, people like that have a way of doing that to you. They make you forget you were ever able to have a life without them in it," Clara replied wistfully.

"Yes," John voiced his agreement. "And at the first sound of danger, they can make you come running."

"And even though they can be insufferable, you can't help but love them."

Clara turned to meet John's eyes. They were both smiling brightly. "You see horrors," he continued.

"And wonders! This life- it's a mousetrap!" Clara froze at the realization. "You're enticed by promises of adventure, excitement, and danger, and you can't leave until it kills you."

John placed his hand on Clara's shoulder. "But it's worth it."

"Absolutely."

The lights overhead flickered before going out. The humming shut off abruptly, leaving Clara and John in pitch black silence.


	9. The Amorian Pact

The console was faintly glowing. It wasn't much, but it was enough for Sherlock to see the Doctor's distressed silhouette. He was frantically turning a knob, muttering to himself.

"What did you do?" Sherlock sighed.

"I didn't do this!" the Doctor objected.

Sherlock pinched the bridge of his nose. He just hoped John was okay, wherever he was. Clara was with him, so he didn't worry too much. He began to feel his way to the wires underneath the console. Nothing was unplugged.

"Oh! Stupid Doctor!" the Doctor suddenly cried out. "Of course, of course."

The detective stood and faced the Doctor. He was leaning against the console with his face in his hands. "What's wrong?"

The Doctor jumped up and began pacing. "The electric shock drained too much out of her. It's amazing she was still able to activate emergency protocol. I'm so sorry, old girl, that was careless of me."

Everything about the Doctor's posture suggested that he was lying, but Sherlock would press him for details later. Shaking his head in annoyance, he checked the door. "Where have we landed?" he asked.

"We've landed?" the Doctor asked. He sprinted to the door. "Brilliant! Good work, sexy."

Sherlock decided to ignore that comment. He pushed open the door slightly. "That's Victorian London," he said.

"Of course it is! She's very smart, the TARDIS is. Come along." The Doctor hurried away.

Sherlock groaned as he followed him, slamming the door shut behind him. "You can fix this, right Doctor?" he asked.

"It will take about twenty-four hours to charge her, but yes," he answered.

"Great. We've got a homicidal alien on the loose at home, and we're trapped here for a whole day because you drained the TARDIS electrocuting yourself."

The Doctor stopped in front of a house and knocked on the door. "So, my plan had a few flaws. Sue me. We're all still alive. We'll catch her now."

Sherlock refrained from telling him that it was because trapping Dadre was his idea. John would be proud of me, he thought with amusement.

A young women opened the door. "Doctor! What brings you here? Oh, do come in!"

"This is Sherlock Holmes," the Doctor introduced as he stepped inside. "And this is Jenny."

"Pleased to meet ya, sir. Vastra!"

"I hear them, Jenny," called a voice from upstairs. Sherlock looked around the house. It was a typical, upper-class Victorian house. He wondered how such seemingly normal people had become friends with the Doctor until he looked at the woman at the top of the stairs. She was human-sized, but the similarities ended there. She was covered in green scales, and Sherlock guessed that everything else about her was reptilian too.

"Silurian," Sherlock realized.

The Doctor glanced at him in surprise. "How did you know?"

"I read the UNIT website."

"Hello, Doctor," Vastra greeted as she climbed down the stairs. "To what do we owe the pleasure?"

"I need to charge the TARDIS," the Doctor explained.

Vastra chuckled in amusement. "Oh, Doctor, what did you do this time?"

"Damn near killed himself," Sherlock grumbled.

Vastra's reptilian eyes turned to him. "Ah, who is this, Doctor?"

"Sherlock Holmes," Sherlock said before the Doctor could answer.

"Is Clara alright?"

"Yes, she'll be along shortly I'm sure," the Doctor answered. "Now, about the TARDIS-"

"I know," Vastra interrupted. "Strax will be back in a moment. We can take care of it then. However, your timing is interesting..."

Sherlock tuned out their conversation and walked outside. There was no sign of John or Clara. From the sound of things, the Doctor would be busy awhile. He walked back to the street corner where the TARDIS was parked. The door was open. Sherlock paused for a moment to think. When he had left the TARDIS, the door had been closed. Clara and John might have left it open, but he doubted they would have been that careless. Besides, Clara would have probably gone straight to the Silurian's house.

Sherlock sprinted inside the TARDIS. "John!" he called out in a panic. Without thinking, he ran down a dark hall.

**XOXOXOXOXOXOXOX**

"What has he done this time?" Clara grumbled.

John blinked, trying to get his eyes used to the darkness, but to no avail. He couldn't see an inch in front of his face. His grip on the stun gun tightened instinctively. The hairs on his neck stood up as he strained his ears.

"Well, we're just going to have to feel our way back," Clara said, unconcerned. A warm hand grabbed his, causing him to flinch. "It's just me, sorry," Clara apologized. "We can't risk losing each other."

She started to pull on his arm. He hesitated, but he followed her slowly down the hallway. Their footsteps echoed loudly in the silence. At one point, John thought he heard the slamming of a door, but he couldn't be sure.

As he walked, he kept a firm grip on the stun gun. His finger was never too far from the trigger. Clara may not be worried, but John couldn't help but jump to the worst possible conclusions.

Clara froze, and John nearly ran into her. "Doctor?" she called out warily. The only response was the scraping of claws against the floor. Within a second, John was aiming his gun at the sound. It stopped. John swallowed hard. Something had gotten into the TARDIS, and they couldn't see what it was.

He heard Clara draw her gun with her other hand. "Who are you?" she demanded. "Answer me, or I will shoot."

"Hunters," a voice hissed through the silence. There was more scratching, indicating somebody shifting uncomfortably.

"Ok, but what species are you?" Clara clarified.

"We are the result of much inbreeding between reptilian species," the same voice hissed. "We are the Amorian Pact."

Clara's pulse was pounding through her palm. John squeezed her hand reassuringly. "Well, you can't hunt us," he said. "Because we'll shoot you."

He could hear more scratching on the floor, and shifted his aim to a different alien. "Don't move," he ordered. "Or I will shoot."

"You cannot see us," a different, softer voice replied, but John could hear the doubt.

"I can," he bluffed. "There's only two of you. There's two of us. We can kill you easily."

The following silence was thick with the fear of four beings. John opened his mouth to speak again but was cut off by a faint call of his name. Judging by the scratching, the aliens had heard too. _Sherlock, shut up_, John groaned internally.

John fired, and the following thump confirmed that he had struck his target. Clara followed his lead, stunning the other alien. They felt their way towards where the aliens had been standing and knelt down by one of the bodies. "They're not very big," John said. "Sherlock can carry them when he finds us."

The footsteps grew louder. "Sherlock, slow down," John called out. "You're not very far from us." The footsteps stopped. "Now walk towards my voice slowly, but don't trip over the stunned aliens."

Sherlock started walking again, much slower than before. "John, what's going on?" he asked. "Oh!" he exclaimed as his foot hit the body.

John stood, pulling Clara up with him. He hadn't let go of her hand the entire time. While the aliens scared him, the thought of losing her in the dark maze terrified him. He finally released her hand to loop his arm around hers and hold the stun gun with his now free hand. With his other hand, he reached out and grabbed Sherlock's arm. "It's me. You're alright," he said when Sherlock started.

"What happened?" Sherlock asked.

"With the power out, the aliens were able to get into the TARDIS," Clara explained. "They came hunting us, so we were forced to stun them. Where's the Doctor?"

"With Vastra and Jenny," Sherlock answered. John had a feeling he was about to meet them. "The TARDIS ran out of power but somehow managed to bring us to Victorian London."

"Excellent. We can take these aliens to them. Sherlock, can you pick them up?" Clara asked.

After a moment of stumbling in the dark, Sherlock managed to hoist the two limp aliens over his shoulder and grab John's hand. "Who are they?" he asked.

Clara shifted her arm to grab his elbow. She pulled them along, leading them through the darkness. "The Amorian Pact," John answered. "Clara, do you think that's-"

"-Amorian as in Dadre Amorian?" she cut in. "I do. It could be a coincidence, but I don't believe in those." Finally, the light of the console came into view. With relief, the three friends let go of each other. "So, two questions," Clara continued. "Why are they hunting us, and how did they find us?"


	10. Assassins And Artron Energy

**A/N: **Johnlock or John/Clara? What do you guys think?

**XOXOXOXOXOXOXOX**

"However, your timing is interesting," Vastra mused.

The Doctor raised an eyebrow. "Interesting how?" he asked warily.

"Well, we've run into two unidentifiable aliens running around the city. They don't seem to be doing any harm, but their presence here is suspicious," Vastra supplied.

"Well, I am stuck here for twenty four hours. I may as well help," he replied shrugging.

"How kind," Vastra answered dryly.

The Doctor glanced at the door. Where was Clara? He hoped she wasn't still in the TARDIS. The four of them were in danger. Something had attacked the TARDIS; something strong enough to shut her down. She's fine, he reassured himself. She had John, and probably Sherlock too since he was nowhere to be seen.

Pushing his worrying to the back of his mind, the Doctor pulled out his sonic screwdriver and began scanning. Nothing. He walked outside, hoping to get a better signal. The sonic whirred for a moment before confirming the presence of two unidentified aliens.

"Doctor!" Vastra called. "You must see this!"

The Doctor rushed back inside to find Vastra sitting down, looking through some pictures. Jenny was perched on the arm of the chair, looking over her shoulder. Both women had faces of intense concentration. He moved to stand behind the chair and exam the images himself from over her shoulder.

He felt his own face twist up in concentration as he looked on the blurry, reptilian forms. "What are they?" he mused aloud.

"They're mysteries," Jenny answered. "Illusive enigmas."

Vastra gathered the pictures and handed them to the Doctor. He flipped through them, unable to make anything of them. "We've been trying to hunt them down for weeks now. We did find them once, but after Strax threatened to blow them up, they made a pretty hasty escape."

"They must be pretty fast to be able to run away from you," the Doctor said. He paused at one photo of the two aliens holding two black objects. "Did you take these pictures with a toaster?" he grumbled.

Ignoring his last comment, Vastra continued. "They have somehow acquired two vortex manipulators.

The Doctor gave the photos back to Vastra. "Don't worry too much. I'm certain we will be seeing them very soon."

Both Vastra and Jenny turned to look at him in surprise. The Silurian raised a quizzical eyebrow, but after a moment she nodded in understanding. Jenny gasped as she came to the same conclusion.

The door swung open. Vastra and Jenny jumped up in surprise at the sight before them, but the Doctor only chuckled slightly to himself. _Of course_. There in the doorway stood Clara and John, stun guns at their side, along with Sherlock. The unconscious forms of the two mystery aliens were thrown unceremoniously over his shoulder. "Good work, Clara," he commented.

"But- but that's- that's..." Jenny stuttered.

Clara's eyes hardened as she strode into the room. "How long have you known?" she asked sharply.

"Well, I knew something had attacked the TARDIS, but I didn't know what until just a moment ago," the Doctor explained.

From the corner of his eye, he watched as Sherlock dumped the bodies on the floor. Vastra knelt to investigate. Even in person, the Doctor wasn't sure what they were.

"Something attacked the TARDIS, and you didn't think it was a good idea to say something?" Clara snapped.

Now why was she getting all ruffled? Everything had turned out just fine. It wasn't as if he had lied to her; she simply hadn't been there to tell. He knew she would catch up to him soon. She always caught up. She was brilliant. So why was she so upset?

"Clara," the Doctor said finally. "If there's one thing I have complete faith in, it's you."

His answer, however, wasn't enough to appease her. She stalked away towards the kitchen fuming. The Doctor considered following her but decided against it, thinking it was probably best to let her cool off.

"They're a genetic melting pot," Sherlock said, capturing the Doctor's attention. "That's why you don't know what they are."

The Doctor crossed the room to kneel next to Vastra. "Fascinating," he murmured. "But why are they chasing us?"

"They call themselves the Amorian Pact. Judging by what you've told me, they're probably orphans, taken in by Dadre, and have now become her personal assassins," Sherlock explained.

"That's amazing," John muttered. Sherlock's lips quirked up into a slight smile. "They're not very good assassins, are they?" he continued.

"They probably knew enough about me to expect me to be unarmed," the Doctor said. "Where are their vortex manipulators?"

Sherlock reached under the closest creature's neck and lifted back a flap of skin the Doctor hadn't even seen, revealing the stolen contraptions. A small red light steadily blinked. As soon as he recognized it, the Doctor reached forward to rip the vortex manipulator away, but it activated, sending the two aliens away.

"Damn it!" Vastra swore. "We were so bloody close!"

The Doctor scanned the area with his screwdriver. "They've gone back to the 21st century."

Jenny wrapped her arm around Vastra and rubbed her shoulder with her other hand. "It's alright, love. We'll charge the TARDIS, and the Doctor will catch 'em."

**XOXOXOXOXOXOXOX**

Clara's hands shook with frustration. She fumbled with her phone for a minute before dialing Danny's number. "Hello," he answered.

"Hey, Danny," she replied a little too cheerfully. "How are you?"

"I'm fine. You sound frustrated. What's happening?"

Clara sighed. "He's being a total arse. Again."

Danny's tone turned almost angry. "What did he do?"

"He just doesn't tell me anything! Two aliens attacked the TARDIS and climbed on board trying to kill us, and he can't even bother to let me know there might be a bit of trouble," she complained.

"A bit of trouble?" Danny snapped. "Clara, he's carelessly putting your life in danger!"

All the anger seemed to evaporate as Clara leaned against the counter and sighed again. "He knew I was armed. Really, my life was never in any danger."

"You were attacked," Danny said forcefully. "He knew you were going to be attacked and he wasn't there."

"Well, he didn't exactly know, he just knew it was possible," Clara replied lamely.

Danny was silent for a moment. "If he cares so little, why do you still follow him?"

Clara gasped. "Don't say that!" she replied angrily.

"I didn't mean it like that," Danny said quickly, backpedaling. "But I don't know if I can continue if you're going to keep putting yourself in danger like this."

"Danny, please," Clara pleaded. "How about we talk when I get home? Yeah?"

There was a long sigh from the other end. Clara noted her shaky hands. Please say you'll listen to me, she prayed silently. Finally, Danny replied. "Alright. But I don't like feeling second best."

Clara quickly assured Danny that she loved him and would do anything for him and that she was already looking forward to coming home so she could see him. With an "I love you", Clara hung up the phone and held it in her still shaking hands. She bit her lip, willing herself not to cry.

John chose that moment to walk into the kitchen. Given the sympathetic look in his eyes, Clara guessed that he had heard everything. "That sounded bad," he said, crossing the room to lean on the counter next to her.

Clara nodded. "My boyfriend," she explained. "They don't get along- Danny and the Doctor."

John gave a cheerless laugh. "Sherlock always hates my girlfriends."

She turned to look him in the eye and smiled sadly. "Why do we put up with them?" she wondered aloud.

John leaned forward and wrapped Clara in a tight hug. "Because we love them," he whispered.

Returning the hug, Clara whispered back, "Thank you."

**XOXOXOXOXOXOXOX**

Reds, oranges, and pinks colored the sky as the band of unlikely friends walked along the street towards the TARDIS. There was a 2000 year old Time Lord, a Silurian from the dawn of time, a seemingly ordinary Victorian women, a Sontaran warrior, a consulting detective, an ex-army doctor, and a school teacher, all brought together by a love of danger and adventure.

Sherlock followed behind the Sontaran with interest. Ever since he had walked into Vastra's house announcing that he was in need of grenades, Sherlock had been watching him curiously. Strax had obviously seen many battles, but while he acted as if he wished for nothing more than to return, it was easy to see that he cared for Vastra and Jenny too much for that. Still, he was a funny little creature, and Sherlock found himself chuckling at his antics.

He turned his attention to Vastra, who was cradling an old-fashioned box. "The Doctor left this with us in case of emergencies," Vastra had told him. Sherlock noticed the way her face lit up with pride. "Ever since he crash landed here in the mouth of a dinosaur." There had to be a good story behind that.

Even the quirky Sontaran was honored to be so trusted by the Doctor. He vowed that he had defended the box with his life. Jenny only rolled her eyes, but she was pleased. Sherlock wondered how the Doctor had come to be such good friends with them. It seemed as if he hardly stayed still long enough.

As they filed into the TARDIS, Sherlock wondered what they must look like to any passing strangers. Vastra crawled underneath the console and opened the box. Gently, she pulled out a glowing, blue mechanical cube. "Artron energy," she explained. She plugged it into the console climbed back out. "Doctor, who is strong enough to completely drain the TARDIS like this?"

Sherlock studied the Doctor's face. His eyes flicked up quickly as he reviewed a long list of enemies. "Could be anything. Who knows what our assassins stole."

Something lightly brushed Sherlock's arm, dragging his attention away from the aliens. John had moved to stand next to him as he watched the scene with growing interest. "Why do you suppose he kept the charger with Vastra?" he asked softly.

"In case the TARDIS was attacked, he didn't want to have it on board," he explained.

"Will you be okay for twenty four hours? You won't get too bored?" John teased.

Sherlock's only response was an affectionate smile that only his blogger would see.


	11. A Plea For Help

The fierce wind picked up the sand, throwing it everywhere. John shielded his eyes. He couldn't see anything but sand. In the distance, he heard shouting. He walked towards it, putting all his energy into keeping upright.

Throughout the panic, John was able to make out the word "ambush" being shouted. Swearing to himself, he drew his gun and frantically searched for the enemy. The wind started to die down, and John could see the forms of his men looking equally frantic as gunshots rang out.

Then, instead of sand covering his vision, it was blood. He covered in the stuff- both his own and his comrades. He tried to run to help his fallen friends, but the sand held his feet fast. John stared helplessly as he sank into the unforgiving desert hell bent on swallowing him whole. He gathered all his strength and pulled against the quicksand.

John hit the floor with a loud thud. He sat up quickly. His eyes darted around the room, taking in his surroundings. He was in Victorian London, in Vastra's guest bedroom. Not Afghanistan. As relief coursed through him, he pulled himself up onto the bed.

The door creaked lightly. John turned to face Clara, standing in the doorway. "Are you alright?" she asked softly.

John motioned for her to come in. "Yeah. What are you doing up?"

Slowly, she shut the door behind her and sat next to John on the edge of the bed. "I couldn't sleep. I was just walking past when I heard you."

He took in her red, puffy eyes and the way she hunched over herself slightly. It didn't take a detective to see that she was upset. John wrapped his arm over her shoulders, and she leaned into him. "Nightmare?" she asked.

"Yeah," John replied. "Happens every now and then."

"Tell me about it," Clara gently prompted.

John sighed. "Before I lived with Sherlock, I was an army doctor in Afghanistan. I saw a lot of action; a lot of terrible things. I used to get them much more often, but ever since I started taking cases with Sherlock, everything's been much better."

Clara found his hand and squeezed it gently. "I'm glad you have him," she said.

The warmth of her hand was strangely comforting. John held on, letting himself enjoy her presence for a moment in silence. She sighed in contentment. In the dark, John could see a small smile on her lips. Tiredly, she blinked her red eyes. "So, what happened?" John asked.

She bit her lip gently before answering. "Danny called. He made me recount everything I've done on this investigation, including being poisoned by a homicidal alien and hunted down by assassins. He was so mad at the Doctor at first, but then he started yelling at me, saying that I had to leave the Doctor now. I tried to explain to him that I can't because I'm addicted to this lifestyle. He m-made me choose, and of course I had to choose the Doctor, I had to-" she said, her voice breaking at the end. She squeezed her eyes shut in an attempt to block out the tears.

John pulled her closer to him. She brought her feet up onto the bed and curled into him. "I'm so sorry," he whispered. He brought his fingers up to wipe away a stray tear. "He shouldn't have done that to you."

"Do you think I chose right?" Clara asked.

"Are you happy with your choice?" Clara only nodded. "Then yes, I do."

"Thank you," she whispered.

"My first girlfriend after I moved in with Sherlock broke up with me after we were kidnapped and nearly killed because of our association with Sherlock," John said. Clara giggled. A genuine smile broke over her features. "Sherlock even showed up on our first date because he was trying to hunt down a Chinese gang of criminals."

"That does sound pretty bad," Clara replied with a yawn.

John continued to recount the entire case. Her eyes grew heavier with each passing minute. Finally, as he was telling her about their last return to the bank, she fell asleep. He checked the time. It was about four in the morning. He gently laid her down on his bed. It wasn't as if he was going to sleep anymore. Trying to sleep after a nightmare was useless.

In sleep, Clara's face had relaxed, making her look years younger. John planted a chaste kiss on her forehead and brought the blankets up over her shoulders. As quietly as he could, he left the room.

John walked down the long hall to Sherlock's room. The light was on. John knocked softly on the door. "Come in," came Sherlock's muffled reply. He entered to see Sherlock sitting cross-legged on the bed with his hands clasped under his chin. His coat and scarf were strewn about on the mattress. John shut the door and moved to sit beside him.

"This changes everything," Sherlock began without preamble. "The assassins. It's going to be harder to catch Dadre now."

"What if we tried to find them first?" John suggested.

Sherlock nodded his approval. "It may be difficult, but the Doctor should be able to track them down using the energy left behind by the vortex manipulators. With any luck, he'll be able to pinpoint their exact location in time, and we find them still unconscious. He's working on it now, actually, in the TARDIS, but I can imagine it's a little difficult without power. He has a tracking device though, which is decent enough."

"Does he ever sleep?" John asked. Sherlock shook his head. "Did you sleep any?"

"No. I've had more important things to do. Like trying to figure out how to catch a murderer and two assassins. Would you like some tea?"

John blinked in confusion at the abrupt change of subject. "Tea? Now?"

"Doesn't it help with your nightmares?" Sherlock asked.

"Oh," John responded lamely. "No. I wouldn't want to wake our hosts. But thank you."

**XOXOXOXOXOXOXOX**

After studying the maps, Sherlock thought he had an idea of where the assassins could have been hiding out. Though it was unlikely they would be there, chances were high that whatever they used to stop the TARDIS would.

John had fallen back asleep on Sherlock's bed. It was normally impossible for him to sleep after a nightmare, but the past few days had taken their tole. Sherlock let him rest undisturbed.

When he heard the front door open, he left his room to greet the Doctor. His face held frustration. Unable to locate them then, Sherlock thought to himself. "I know where they were hiding," Sherlock said.

The Doctor glanced at him in surprise. "How could you know that."

Sherlock pulled the map from his pocket and pointed. "The weapon that brought down the TARDIS would have to be big, and two giant lizards running around London would raise questions. It would also be somewhere pretty close."

The Time Lord nodded in agreement. "You think they were on the library roof. The tallest building close by. Plus, they have a nice attic. It makes sense."

Sherlock shoved the map back into his pocket and grabbed his coat from the coatrack. "Shall we?" he asked as he slid it on and exited the house.

This was normally where Lestrade would tell him to slow down, or where John would complain about him rushing into things. The Doctor, however, followed close behind him without a word. It was a different feeling, having somebody who was so like him around. _Clara was right about us, _Sherlock mused.

The sun was rising over the Victorian city. Fresh, spring leaves covered the tree branches, reaching out towards the street. A few birds chirped back and forth, breaking the morning silence. The quiet made Sherlock uneasy. Something felt wrong, but he couldn't put his finger on it. He looked back over his shoulder, but there was nobody else out. The Doctor looked equally disturbed. It was too easy, Sherlock realized.

He quickened his pace as he turned the street corner. There was a women tending to her yard. She exchanged pleasant greetings with the two geniuses. Sherlock eyed her warily. Her husband's cheating on her, he deduced silently to himself. It was obvious, really. Her eyes were rimmed with red, and she kept glancing down at her ring, which was starting to rust.

They turned another corner. A teenage girl was sneaking into her house through the second story window. It wasn't the first time either, judging by the ease in which she perched herself on the tree branch (no easy feat in her gown) and pried the window open with one hand. It didn't take a genius to know that she had been with a boy.

Sherlock and the Doctor took a right turn and found themselves staring at the library. Anything could be on the roof, and they wouldn't be able to see it from here. Sherlock approached the door and pushed it open. The musty smell of old books hit his nose. He smiled slightly to himself as he took in the sight of rows of bookshelves.

"This way," the Doctor said, taking the lead. Sherlock followed him to the counter. He pulled out the blank paper he had used at the crime scene and showed it to the woman behind. "Doctor John Smith and Sherlock Holmes: building inspectors," he introduced. Sherlock watched curiously as the women only nodded. "Do you mind if we have a look in your attic?"

"Not at all," she replied. "Top floor, east corner. You'll find the latter there."

The Doctor thanked her and made his way to the stairs. "How does that work?" Sherlock asked as soon as they were out of earshot.

"Psychic paper. It shows people whatever I want them to see," the Doctor answered, climbing.

"Then why don't I see anything?" Sherlock asked.

The Doctor shrugged. "Perhaps because you're a genius."

Sherlock considered the Doctor's answer as he followed behind him. Just as the women had said, the pair found the hatch leading up to the attic in the east corner of the top floor. He pulled it open, and the latter slid down. Without hesitating, Sherlock climbed.

Dust hung in the air, making it harder to see in the dim space. He pulled himself completely inside, and the Doctor followed. "They were here," Sherlock said. "Look at the dust in this corner of the room."

Sherlock crossed the attic to take a closer look. As he expected, he found a hatch that led up the roof. "This wasn't originally here," he explained, opening it. "The assassins made it for their own purposes."

The Doctor quietly followed behind him as he climbed onto the roof. Sitting undisturbed in the middle was a satellite-like object. "Time Lord technology. How did they get that?" the Doctor wondered aloud.

He knelt down beside the object and examined it. Sherlock watched with growing interest as he scanned it. "Very old. Once owned by Daleks," he commented.

Had it been anybody beside the two geniuses on the roof, they might have missed the faint sound of scraping claws. However, both Sherlock and the Doctor heard it instantly. The Doctor leapt up and aimed his screwdriver while Sherlock clenched his fist and prepared to move quickly.

One of the assassins stood at the edge pointing a gun. Their arm shook slightly, and they're large, black eyes held tears. Dried blood decorated their face and arms, and a bloodstained cloak was draped around their trembling shoulders. "You're just a kid," Sherlock voiced his realization.

"You will help me," the assassin demanded. Her voice was rough, but it was defiantly a girl's voice.

"Not with that pointed at me," the Doctor replied gently.

She lowered the gun. "Please, will you help me and my brother?" she begged, her voice shaking.

Sherlock fought the urge to correct her grammar as the Doctor replied. "What do you need?"

"To escape," the assassin answered.

With his hand still up, Sherlock slowly approached the alien. He took her arms and examined the marks. "Dadre did this to you," he said. "And you want to escape her."

She nodded. "Take me to Raxacoricofallapatorius. I have more Raxacoricofallapatorian in me than anything else. Please."


	12. The Gamechanger

The Paternoster Gang had been gone for a few hours after having been summoned by the police. The Doctor and Sherlock were also missing, but Clara was sure they would turn up soon.

Clara was rummaging through the cabinets when John finally woke up. "Good morning," she called out to him as he entered the kitchen. "Vastra left some biscuits out on the table, and I'm making tea."

He grabbed a biscuit and ate slowly. "Where is everybody?" he asked.

"Vastra, Jenny, and Strax are out with the police, and who knows where the Doctor and Sherlock are," Clara answered.

The kettle whistled, and Clara picked it up from the stove and poured the tea. She handed a cup to John, who took it gratefully. As he sipped, Clara studied him. He was cute, she realized. Against her will, the blood rose up in her cheeks. She turned away quickly, hoping he wouldn't see.

"Sherlock said that the Doctor's trying to track down the assassins," John spoke, breaking the silence.

"This is getting messy," Clara sighed. She finished her tea and rinsed the cup out. John moved to do the same, but Clara took it out of his hand. "Here, let me."

Their fingers brushed each other softly. Clara's heart beat faster in her chest. She marveled at how quickly she had fallen. Just last night, her heart had felt broken. Somehow, John had known exactly how to patch her up. But of course, we're exactly alike, Clara thought.

A banging echoed through the silence. It sounded as if the front door had been broken down. Clara sprang into action, grabbing a knife and sprinting towards the door. John followed suit, and Clara smirked despite the situation. He hadn't even questioned that her first instinct had been to run straight towards the danger.

The door had been forced open, just as Clara thought. She raised her knife towards the figure in the room, who only held their hands up in surrender. It took her a second to recognize the assassin. "Who are you?" she demanded. "What do you want?"

It was then that Clara noticed the scratches covering them. John's warm hand grabbed hers and gently pried the knife away. The alien posed no threat to them. Clara could see the fear in their eyes.

"I'm Gorgo Amorian, and my sister sent me to find you," they (He? Yes, probably.) answered.

John set the knives on the desk and knelt in front of Gorgo. "We should really get those cleaned," he said softly.

"Did she send you to kill us?" Clara asked, though she could tell the answer would be no.

As expected, Gorgo shook his head. He pulled his cloak tighter to him as he answered. "Alsa, my sister, found your friends. They agreed to help us escape Dadre."

"Did she do this to you?" John asked in horror. Gorgo nodded timidly. "Your own mother?"

"She's not my mother," Gorgo hissed. "Alsa promised me that we would find a new mother."

"We have biscuits," Clara said. "Are you hungry?"

Gorgo's eyes lit up as he nodded. John took his arm and led him into the kitchen, where he sat and ate. When Gorgo had settled, he took Clara's hand and pulled her into the other room.

"He's only a child," he whispered. His eyes held so much hurt as he spoke. "He's just a kid, and that murderer is forcing him to put himself in danger to kill for her."

"It's okay," Clara said softly, reassuring. "We've got him now."

John nodded. "That was some pretty impressive instincts back there," he said. "You reacted faster than me, and I was a soldier."

"I feel like a soldier sometimes," Clara admitted. "I've fought people. I've saved others. And I've been captured plenty of times."

Her eyes were drawn to his lips. He was standing close, and even though it had only been a few days, Clara was already used to him. Fighting aliens has a way of drawing people together. She leaned forward slightly, holding her breath. After a moment, John leaned in the rest of the way and captured her lips with his.

It was a short kiss. John pulled away quickly. "I'm so sorry," he said quickly. "I have no idea what came over me."

Clara smiled. "It's alright," she replied. She leaned in, about to kiss him again when she heard movement in the kitchen. "We should get to the TARDIS," she said instead.

**XOXOXOXOXOXOXOX**

The moment he saw John and Clara enter the TARDIS, Sherlock knew what had happened. He could tell by the way they looked at each other. Making a mental note to talk to John about it later, he turned his attention to Alsa Amorian.

The alien ran forward to embrace her younger brother. It was easy to see that the kids had been through hell. Hopefully, it was all over for them now.

John, ever the Doctor, fussed over their injuries. The aliens took an instant liking to him, despite the fact that they had been trying to kill him yesterday.

Alsa broke away from John and approached him. "Mr. Sherlock," she began. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a blowdart in a plastic bag. "I nicked this from Dadre. The tip is covered in enough poison to kill her," she whispered.

Sherlock accepted the dart and quickly put it in his coat pocket. He checked to make sure the Doctor hadn't noticed. He hadn't. He was wrapped up in trying to get the TARDIS to charge faster. It was almost sundown. Sherlock was just as anxious as he was to leave. "Thank you," he replied softly.

"Use it as a last resort," she instructed.

Sherlock nodded. Despite her upbringing, she had a stronger moral compass than he would have thought. Perhaps it was because of her upbringing. She had been abused and forced to kill, and now she sought to cause as little pain as possible.

The dart felt heavy in his pocket. This was a game changer. If his plan started to fall apart, he had something to fall back on. For the first time since leaving the hospital, Sherlock let himself relax.

He turned his mind back to John, who kept stealing glances at Clara. When this was all done, she might be the only girlfriend Sherlock could stand. She was interesting, and she certainly wasn't trying to settle down. No, Clara was trying to live the same dangerous life as John. She may be good for him, Sherlock wondered.

The lights flashed on, and the TARDIS hummed to life. The Doctor gave an exclamation of excitement as he set about entering time coordinates. Clara left John's side and gathered the kids. She sat with them and held tightly. Taking the opportunity, Sherlock crossed the TARDIS to John. "She'll be good for you," he said very softly.

A large smile broke out over John's face. "Thank you," he replied, equally as soft.

The TARDIS lurched. Sherlock grabbed the railing to keep himself steady. "I don't think it's supposed to do that," he muttered. John only laughed. The Doctor didn't seem to notice as he danced about the console. "It's been a while since I've been to Raxacoricofallapatorius. More than a thousand years in fact. However, it's only been a few years for the family we're about to visit. I hope," he added under his breath.

As they landed, the familiar whirring echoed through the room. "This will only take a moment. Alsa, Gorgo, come meet your new family."

With the Doctor gone, Sherlock pulled out the dart to show John and Clara. "Back-up plan," he explained.

To their credit, neither of them questioned him as he returned the dart to his pocket. Clara nodded in understanding. "I won't tell him," she said.

The door swung open, and a very smug Doctor waltzed back in. "Well, that was easier than I expected. I've always said that a little anticlimax is good for my heart. Now, next question- how do we find Dadre?"

"We visit the morgue," Sherlock answered. "Molly should have the body of her latest victim by now. That might provide me with an idea."

The Doctor nodded and set in the coordinates. As he watched, Sherlock slipped his hand into his pocket and felt the dart. The Doctor was a hard man to read. Would he be furious if Sherlock used the dart, or relieved? While he hoped he wouldn't have to find out, it didn't hurt to be prepared.

The TARDIS lurched again. Excitement and relief washed over Sherlock. He was glad to be back in London. Now it was time to catch a murderous Raxacoricofallapatorian.


	13. In The Morgue

Clara did not approach Jeanette Frazier's body. She had seen many horrible things before, but she doubted she could stomach seeing the mangled form of her coworker. It was bad enough hearing Sherlock rattle off the injuries. Clara tried to tune him out and think of anything besides her friend lying cold and dead there.

A gentle hand on her shoulder pulled Clara's attention away. She turned to look gratefully at the women beside her. "Are you okay?" the pathologist asked.

"I will be," Clara replied.

"I'm Molly Hooper," the other women introduced herself.

"Clara Oswald."

Clara watched as Molly's eyes darted to Sherlock for a second before returning to her. "Do you do this kind of thing often?" she asked.

"Yes," Clara answered with a nod. "It's a dangerous line of work, traveling with the Doctor. I could tell you about it sometime."

Molly's lips quirked up into a smile. "Would you like to go get coffee? Sherlock's just gone into his mind palace, so they may be a while."

Clara agreed. From the moment she had walked out of the TARDIS and straight into the morgue, she knew that she was going to like the pathologist. Molly had raised her eyebrows, but she accepted Sherlock's explanation without any question. Most people tended to freak out when a blue box materialized in front of them.

Upon leaving the room, Clara felt instantly better. The break room was only up on the same floor, but as they walked through the hallways, the thoughts of Jeanette disappeared. "So, how do you know Sherlock?" Clara asked.

"He comes by a lot. Mostly he just wants to experiment with a corpse for a case of his." As she spoke, a small smile crept up her face. Molly probably wasn't even aware of it.

"Does he know?" Clara asked.

Molly hesitated as she pushed open the door to the break room. "Know what?"

"That you love him?" Clara clarified softly.

Molly's face remained impassive. "Yes. He does." She filled two cups and handed one to Clara. The pleasant warmth hit her nose. She took a long sip, feeling her heart break for Molly.

"I know what that's like," she said finally.

Molly nodded in understanding. "You used to love him. The Doctor."

Clara hummed in agreement. "That obvious, huh?" she joked. "Yes, I did love him once. He was different then. Of course I still love him, but it's not the same as it once was. I think it's better for us that way."

"You were staring at John," Molly said, smiling devilishly.

"I kissed him," Clara whispered excitedly. Molly's grin grew. "I met him a few days ago, and I kissed him."

"Does he know?" Molly whispered back.

"Nah, the Doctor is oblivious when it comes to these things. But I'm sure Sherlock knows."

The two continued to chatter like teenagers. By the time Clara's coffee cup was empty, her mood was significantly lighter. When Molly suggested they return to the morgue, Clara agreed.

She followed behind Molly in comfortable silence. _I bet between the two of us, we could tell enough stories to last a life time,_ Clara thought to herself. _We should have dinner sometime and talk about murder and aliens._

A loud clattering broke through the silence, and the smile slipped off of Clara's face. She broke into a run with Molly simultaneously. There was only one more corner to turn, then the two women stood in front of the locked room, pulling at the doors. Inside, the light was off, and a vicious growling could be faintly heard from the other side.

"Doctor! John!" Clara shrieked at the same time Molly screamed, "Sherlock!"

Molly pulled a pin from her hair and set to work on the lock.

**XOXOXOXOXOXOXOX**

The Doctor didn't look up when he heard the door open. The readings from his sonic screwdriver held his attention captive. He glared, trying to make heads or tails of it. He lightly hit the screwdriver, and it gave a whir of protest. Lights flashed, then the Doctor's blood turned cold.

He looked up and met Sherlock's eyes. Given the serious look in them, he had come to the same conclusion. "Where did Molly say she was going?" he whispered, his voice raising a pitch with worry.

The Doctor opened his mouth to answer, but the clicking of a lock cut him off. His eyes flew to the door, but nobody was there. "She's locked us in," he said.

"Who?" John asked. His brows were furrowed in confusion as he glanced between the Doctor and the door.

"Oh. Perception filter. You can't see her," Sherlock whispered. The Doctor aimed his screwdriver at the door. "Left a little," Sherlock supplied without raising his voice any. "Right there."

The whirring of the sonic mixed with the sparking of a the perception filter. The Doctor blinked, and Dadre came into focus. The alien grinned wickedly. "Bravo!" she greeted.

Dadre was noticeably favoring her uninjured side. The red gash from the kitchen knife was still visible. Dried blood speckled the scales around it. _Nice shot, Clara,_ the Doctor thought absently. His eyes met hers. The hunger that gleamed in him made the hairs on his neck stand up. The experience reminded him of facing down Satan in the dark pit.

"I don't suppose you've come to turn yourself in?" the Doctor asked.

At that, Dadre chuckled. The high pitch did nothing to help the hairs on his neck settle down. "No. I have come to assure my freedom."

"Then you're an idiot," the Doctor said simply.

"So are you," Dadre replied, sending a smirk at the gaping expressions of Sherlock and John. "You think you're immortal," she continued with venomous honey dripping off her voice. "You think you're a god."

"I am an idiot," the Doctor said. "But I've faced devils and gods and won. I've turned whole armies around at the mention of my name. And you, a petty serial killer, think you can best me?" He laughed at the absurdity of it.

At that moment, the lights shut out. A few choice swear words echoed throughout the room as the Doctor fumbled with his screwdriver. Dadre growled loudly and knocked over a table, which in turn knocked over the Doctor. He hit the floor, and the screwdriver clattered across the floor. He crawled free and grabbed for it, aiming it at the lights.

More tables fell over. The Doctor felt something glass break on his arm. A cool wetness covered his sleeve as he grunted in pain, fumbling with the screwdriver once more.

From somewhere to his right, John Watson cried out in surprise just as the Doctor got the lights back on. He looked to his side in horror. The large reptile was perched on top of the army doctor. Her claws dug into his shoulder, leaving small beads of blood gathered around them. The pain was evident in his face. "Anybody else moves, and I snap his neck," Dadre threatened in her sugary poisonous voice.

While her eyes were focused on the Doctor, Sherlock threw himself at her. Dadre's eyes widened in surprise as the two toppled over. They rolled on the floor in a tangle of limbs. To the Doctor, it was unclear who was the stronger.

Sherlock reached a hand into his coat and, to the Doctor's horror, produced a blow dart. With as much force as he could muster, he shoved it into the aliens stomach. Dadre shrieked in pain as she scrambled away from him. Her fearful eyes widened as she pulled the dart from her body with shaking hands. She brought it to her face and sniffed. "You've killed me," she whispered.

The doors were thrown open by a very frantic Clara and Molly. Clara rushed to John, who was still on the floor, jumping over a table, ignoring the large alien who had slumped to the ground in defeat. Molly, after getting over her initial shock, cautiously moved around Dadre to Sherlock's side. The Doctor watched the scene with growing interest. Everyone else seemed shaken, maybe bruised, but relatively unharmed. He looked down at his scarlet arm. Somebody should probably look at that later, but for now, he turned his attention to Dadre.

He approached the solemn alien, keeping his expression neutral. "I am sorry that it came to this," he said evenly.

Dadre met his eyes, and the glee the Doctor found their chilled him to the bone. "Oh, I knew it would happen eventually. I would get it in over my head. Meet my match." She chuckled.

"Why are you laughing?" the Doctor asked, a growing sense of dread bubbling in the pit of his stomach.

"I have a son," Dadre explained weakly. "An assassin, like I was. We both work alone, but long ago, we swore we would avenge each other's deaths."

Finally, the great alien collapsed. Her large eyes shut for the last time as her body fell backwards. An icy smile still rested upon her features. Just like that, their positions had switched. They hunters now had to prepare themselves to be hunted.


	14. Raxacoricofallapatorius

**A/N: **I did look up Raxacoricofallapatorius, but I couldn't find a lot. If I made a mistake, I'm very sorry.

**XOXOXOXOXOXOXOX**

John wasted no time in stitching up the Doctor's arm. He could feel Clara watching in admiration, causing him to shift uncomfortably. "Hold still," he murmured to the Doctor, though there was no need to. The Doctor, given his two thousand years of experience, was a wise patient.

"At least the bloodstains will be proof of a fight with Dadre should the Raxacoricofallapatorian government be displeased," the Doctor said as he finished.

"Do you think they will be?" John asked, walking to the body.

"No," the Doctor replied honestly.

"But he's been wrong before," Clara cut in.

The Doctor pouted slightly as he covered his arm with his coat sleeve. "Prep the body as you would for a funeral. Then we'll take her back to Raxacoricofallapatorius."

The body of the great alien was lain out over a stretcher. John and Molly worked together to clean her up and shift her into position. "It's only right," the Doctor insisted. The scales felt oddly smooth against the army doctor's hands. He placed her hands across her chest to keep them from falling.

"This is so cliché," Clara grumbled. "A son going to avenge his mother? Really? That's too cliché to be true, isn't it?"

"Molly Hooper, how do you feel about a trip into space?" The Doctor asked the pathologist, ignoring his companion.

Molly smiled shyly. "I would love to come," she replied.

John tuned out the conversation and examined the corpse in front of him. In death, Dadre looked peaceful for probably the first time. John tried to imagine her as a mother. (A real one, that is. John doesn't consider Gorgo and Alsa as her children.) Her hands, instead of being used to tear throats out, may very well once have been used to hold a baby with love. Her face, now relaxed, could have held a kind expression. _Or perhaps not_, he mused. _She hardly seems like the mothering type._

When the Doctor determined that she was ready, John and Molly wheeled the stretcher into the TARDIS. The pathologist, at the Doctor's order, clung onto the rail to support herself. John left her to go to Clara's side. "Are you okay?" he asked.

She nodded in response. Boldly, John grabbed her hand. She blushed slightly, but she made no objection. He saw Molly smirking and the Doctor smiling to himself. John smiled in relief at the Doctor's silent approval.

"Doctor, Dadre does not have a son who's going to avenge her death," Clara said.

Until that point, Sherlock had been standing on the outskirts, but when Clara spoke, he stepped forward. "I think so too."

"You think?" John asked in amazement. "The great Sherlock Holmes isn't sure?"

Sherlock shot him a glare as he continued. "We all, well, minus Molly, saw Gorgo and Alsa. She's bluffing."

The Doctor fidgeted with the controls. The doubt was written clearly across his face. His hands seemed to absently turn knobs and dials as he pondered. "I will prepare for the possibility, but I believe you are right."

With the time coordinates in, the TARDIS pulled into the vortex, shaking as she moved. John held tighter to Clara's hand reflexively. The corner of her mouth twitched upwards briefly as he did.

"So I guess we're safe now?" he asked Clara.

"With the Doctor, we're never out of the woods."

**XOXOXOXOXOXOXOX**

"You are in danger, coming with us."

Molly jumped as Sherlock seemed to appear out of nowhere behind her. She straightened her jacket in an attempt to cover it up. "W-why is that?" she stuttered.

He frowned down at her. "Murder. Aliens. The usual."

Molly's eyes scanned his face. _Is he...concerned? _she wondered. _About me?_

"Well, I wanted to see this Raxac-coria-, er, Raxafillous-, ah this planet," she finished lamely, blushing.

And because I wanted to come with you for once, she added silently.

He leaned in closer. "Molly, I can't garuentee that an alien assassin won't come for us."

"Your concern is appreciated but unnecessary," Molly replied, trying to sound steady.

Sherlock blinked in surprise. The floor shook, and he took off towards the door. Molly sighed as she watched after him. It seemed that she would spend the rest of her life watching the consulting detective from afar. As much as she wished it were different, he had captured her heart, and Molly was powerless to steal it back.

She snapped out of her trance when the Doctor appeared on the other side of the stretcher. "Shall we then, Molly?" he asked.

Molly nodded eagerly. The strange alien smiled down at her, somehow staying the anxiety building in her stomach. She swallowed hard and tightened her grip on the stretcher. With a snap of his fingers, he opened the TARDIS door. He guided Molly outside, onto the alien planet.

The sky was a brilliant shade of pinkish purple. Molly gasped in amazement. "Amazing isn't it?" the Doctor asked softly.

Molly nodded mutely as she continue to take it all in. Even the grass under her feet seemed alien. She focused on the building in front of her. It was tall and rather plain, made of some sort of black stone.

It wasn't long before Sherlock, bouncing ahead, stole her attention back. She smiled to herself as he confidently pushed forward. Molly glanced behind her, at John and Clara. The two were standing close together, whispering.

Inside the building, oddly enough, felt familiar. There was a carpet running in a straight line over the tile, leading to another room. The black walls and floors were made with perfectly cut rectangles. Two desks on either side of the room stood faving each other. In the corner, a spiral staircase led to an upstairs room. If Molly ignored the aliens staring at her, she could almost pretend that she was still on Earth. They stood in a circle, apparently in the middle of a serious argument. At their approach, the aliens fell silent. "Doctor? What is the meaning of this?" one hissed.

The Doctor pulled the stretcher from Molly's hands and approached the group of them. They began to whisper amongst themselves. Molly staggered backwards. The anxiety was rising through her blood fast. She clenched her fists and jaw as she took deep breaths through her nose.

Suddenly, Sherlock was touching the back of her hand. Her thoughts cleared just enough for her to get her body back under control. "Thank you," she murmured under her breath.

"Are you...okay?" he asked hesitantly.

"I will be," Molly answered softly.

The aliens straightened. One of them caught Molly's eye and smiled kindly. At the realization that she was not about to die, Molly's legs shook. Sherlock put his hand on her shoulder to steady her.

"Thank you for your help, Doctor," another one of the aliens finally said. They took the stretcher and wheeled it away into the back room.

"We will all sleep better knowing that she is gone," another alien replied.

The Doctor and the aliens exchanged farewells. He turned back to the group of humans. Relief was etched into his features as he clapped his hands together. "Well, that's over. You are probably wanting to go home."

Murmurs of agreement rang through the small crowd as they followed the Doctor outside. "Doctor, what about Dadre's son?" Molly asked.

"There's no son coming for vengeance," Clara replied.

The strange voice that spoke from behind them made Molly's blood turn cold.

"Oh, but isn't there?"


	15. Even More Trouble

One look at the panicked faces of his friends confirmed what Sherlock had known all along: that he was the only one with any brains in the group. Of course, he had been wrong about this particular situation. Like Clara, he had believed Dadre's son did not exist. But, unlike everyone else, he had come prepared for trouble.

Slowly, he turned around to face the strange Raxacoricofallapatorian. He did bear a strong resemblance to his mother. The main difference was in the eyes. While Dadre's eyes were wild and full of bloodlust, the alien before them was calm and collected.

"Are you here to kill us for revenge?" the Doctor asked calmly.

"Yes," Dadre's son stated simply. "That's the benefit of having an assassin for a son."

It only took Sherlock a second to take in everything. John and Clara had stepped closer to each other protectively with fists clenched. The Doctor had his screwdriver in his hand. Molly was shaking and had stepped closer to him. The alien's muscles were tense, as if he were about to pounce. And Sherlock was the only one armed.

In a sudden motion, the alien lunged at Sherlock, as if he could sense somehow that he was the one who had killed Dadre. Just as quickly, Sherlock reached into his coat and drew one of the Doctor's stun guns. He fired once, causing Dadre's son to stumble. As he tried to regain his balance and continue his attack, Sherlock fired again.

The alien's eyes widened as his legs buckled. He reached his arm out towards Sherlock as he fell. It wasn't until too late that Sherlock noticed the claw-like dart that was hurtling straight for his heart.

There was no time to move out of the way. Sherlock closed his eyes and braced himself for the hit that he knew may kill him.

It never came. Sherlock opened his eyes slowly to see Molly Hooper standing in front of him, hunched over and grabbing at her shoulder. Without a second thought, Sherlock ran to scoop her into his arms. She let out a startled cry as he did so, but she made no other objection.

"Don't move," Sherlock said softly. "It will only make the poison spread quicker."

She nodded mutely. Her face was scrunched up in pain, but she smiled bravely. "You saved my life," Sherlock continued. "Thank you."

Holding Molly tightly to his chest, Sherlock turned to the Doctor. "We have to go," he said.

The Doctor nodded in agreement. "We'll go back to the same hospital," he said. "Best hospital in-"

His voice was drowned out by sudden shouts. Sherlock whirled around quickly. His eyes widened in shock as Raxacoricofallapatorians surrounded them. "Doctor!" one voice rose above the rest.

Sherlock clutched Molly tighter, protectively. "What's happening?" she gasped.

"I think they saw me shoot Dadre's son," Sherlock murmured. "And now they aren't very happy."

"Quiet!" roared the alien who seemed to be in charge. All at once, the angry shout stopped. "Doctor, explain yourself."

"He was Dadre's son. He was going to kill us for revenge," he explained calmly. "He's only stunned. Now, the girl is injured, and I really need to take her to a hospital."

The alien snorted in disbelief. "Petrir was a good Raxacoricofallapatorian. Doctor, you and your friends are under arrest."

Sherlock stepped forward to face the alien. "You can't do this. She's hurt. She will die."

The alien quickly examined Molly. "We will cure her," he said. "Do you really think we are unable to cure our own venom?"

The crowd started to move, and the group of humans plus Time Lord were pushed along with it. "Doctor, please tell me you have a plan," Clara said. Despite the situation, her voice sounded more annoyed than worried.

"Don't worry, Clara. I can prove that we were attacked first."

John appeared by Sherlock's side. "Is she okay?" he asked. He grabbed her wrist and checked her pulse.

"I am," Molly croaked weakly. Her eyes were drooping.

"Stay awake as long as you can," John ordered. "Sherlock, of course you would grab a gun. It saved us this time, I guess."

The group was led to the same building, but once inside, they were brought into a room full of cells. A cell door was opened, and The Doctor, Clara, and John were herded inside. The door was slammed shut forcefully. It rattled the entire cell.

The lead alien grabbed Sherlock's arm and steered him further inside, past more empty cells along the drafty hallway. In the back of the room, there was an open space for a table and shelf.

"Set her down," the lead alien commanded.

Sherlock did as he was told, approaching the metal table and gently laying Molly down. By now, she had lost consciousness.

The alien dug around the top drawer and produced a syringe. "This will heal her," he explained. He took Molly's arm and gently inserted the needle into her elbow. Her entire face seemed to relax as the medicine rushed through her blood. "It works quickly," he explained. "She should wake soon." As he talked, he wrapped the used syringe in plastic and disposed if it in a small, metal can.

Sherlock took Molly into his arms again, and the alien led him back to the cell that held his friends. The alien opened the door to shove them inside before slamming it once again. Without a word, he left the room.

The detective crossed the cell to the black opposite the door and sat. He studied the Doctor, who was pacing near the door. He wasn't at all worried about their condition; just mildly irritated. Whatever his plan was, he had full confidence in it. With that in mind, Sherlock let himself relax as they waited.

**XOXOXOXOXOXOXOX**

Leaning against the wall, Clara sat with her shoulder just barely touching John's. "Well, this is exciting," she muttered.

"Does this happen often?" John asked, his voice light with amusement.

Clara snorted. "More often than I'd like."

"It could be hours before they come back to question us," the Doctor groaned.

"Why don't you tell us a story?" Clara asked. "It would help pass the time."

The Doctor sighed as he walked over to the wall opposite Clara and John. He leaned against it and slid down to a sitting position. "I have plenty of those. Enough to last a lifetime."

"I'd love to hear a story," Molly piped up. Along the adjacent wall, she was sitting with her head leaning on Sherlock's shoulder. His arm was wrapped around her waist protectively. Molly had told Clara that earlier that Sherlock didn't care for her, but it seemed that she was wrong. He had just needed a little nudge to see it.

John took her hand in his own. "That's a good idea," he agreed. "Tell us a story."

The Doctor hummed as he thought. "Okay. I've got one," he announced. "More than a thousand years ago, in my tenth regeneration, I was traveling with a women named Donna Noble. I received a strange message on my psychic paper, asking me to come to the Library. So, Donna and I arrive to find the Library completely abandoned. Only, it wasn't. After checking the computer, I found out that there were a million million living things, but there was still silence in the Library.

"After some exploring, Donna and I came across a group of archeologists. There was one among them, a women, who already knew me. Her name was Professor River Song."

Clara gasped, causing John to face her. "I've always wanted to hear this story," she whispered to him.

"When it became clear that I had no idea who she was, River was heartbroken. But, like the fighter she was, she pulled it together and remained calm through it all.

"One of the computers revealed a strange message for us. It told us that we needed to count our shadows if we wanted to live. We soon learned that the shadows could move, and we found ourselves running from an unknown enemy. It was as if the darkness had grown sentience and was out to get us.

"As it turned out, the shadows were the Vashta Nerada, millions of tiny insects that hid in the dark and could strip flesh to bone in mere milliseconds."

The Doctor continued to talk about the strange library, and how the Vashta Nerada slowly claimed more victims. He told them how the computer claimed Donna Noble, and how River had his screwdriver and knew his name. Finally, he told them about CAL, and how the only option to save everybody trapped in the computer was for somebody to die.

"I was ready to die," the Doctor continued. "I was about to sit in that chair and let my brain be fried when she intervened. She knocked me out and handcuffed me to a desk just so that I wouldn't die. She died to assure that I would meet her again someday, and that I would grow to love her."

A single tear had fallen down Clara's cheek. Her affection for the sad archeologist she had met long ago grew. "Thank you for telling us that," she said softly.

The door to the room was thrown open. The Doctor leapt up and rushed to the cell door as the alien approached. "Alright. Who can tell me what happened?"

"I'll do you one better," the Doctor replied. "I'll show you."


	16. Home

**AN: **I won't bore you with my long excuses about why it took me so long to publish this. Sorry, hopefully it won't happen again.

**XOXOXOXOXOXOXOX**

Several pairs of expectant eyes rested on the Doctor as he was let out of the cell. The alien approached the Doctor warily. Every muscle was tensed, as if he were preparing to have to pounce on an escaping Time Lord. The Doctor moved slowly forward so as not to startle the Raxacoricofallapatorian.

"May I?" the Doctor asked as he slowly raised his hands towards the alien's head.

The alien glared at the hands hovering just in front of him. After a moment, he seemed to decide that the Doctor meant no harm and nodded his agreement. The Doctor gently rested his hands on either side of the alien's head and closed his eyes, focusing.

Wherever the connection's path was, a cold trail was left. It started as an icy feeling surrounding the Doctor's brain, and flowed like water down his neck and into his arms. The connection spiraled through his arms and out his fingertips, where it entered the Raxacoricofallapatorian's head. The entire experience, while odd, was not unpleasant.

One by one, the Doctor loosened the memories of their encounters with Dadre and her son. They slipped like water through the icy trail straight into the alien's brain. He gasped at the sight of Dadre's son charging Sherlock. "It's true," he said softly. "What you said. You really were attacked."

The Doctor removed his hands, severing the connection. The alien in front of him blinked a few times, clearing the memories away from his eyes. He looked the Doctor in the eye and smiled. "Thank you. We will deal with the problem now. You and your friends are free to go."

After shaking the Doctor's hand, he unlocked the cell door and motioned for the others to come out. "I trust that you can see yourselves out alright?"

"Yes," the Doctor answered. "Thank you."

Without another word, the alien was gone. The Doctor turned to his group of friends, smiling at the thought of having a group of friends traveling with him. "I suppose you all want to go home now?" he asked.

"Is it finally over?" Clara asked.

"Yes, Clara," the Doctor answered, smiling affectionately. "I believe it is."

Slowly, the teacher, the army doctor, the detective, and the pathologist, all left the cell to stand beside the Time Lord. They all looked up at him with varying degrees of exhaustion, relief, and happiness.

The walk back to the TARDIS was a quiet one as the five friends let themselves just enjoy each other's company now that all danger was gone. The Doctor, who knew it wouldn't be long before he was back in the heart of the action, spent the time simply observing his new friends. When he had walked into the house of that first murder victim days ago, he had no attention of allying himself with the detective, much less befriending him. Now, it felt as if he had known the odd man for much longer. They were very alike, which was perhaps why they got along so well.

The TARDIS was waiting just where the Doctor had left her. As he approached, she buzzed happily. "Good to see you too," he whispered as he opened the door. Of course, he couldn't forget his oldest friend; the one who had been with him on every adventure for two-thousand years. He ran joyfully to the console and ran a hand over the many levers and switches. "It is good to be home."

**XOXOXOXOXOXOXOX**

As the TARDIS shuddered, Clara leaned her head against John's shoulder. "This was fun," she remarked.

He hummed in agreement. "It will be hard to go back to real life after this," he replied.

Clara snorted. "This is real life."

The TARDIS shook again and groaned, signaling arrival. "221B Baker Street," the Doctor announced.

"I'll see you again soon, ok?" Clara asked as she pulled away.

"I'll call you," he answered.

"You had better."

Clara watched with a smile as John left with Sherlock and Molly. As the door swung closed, she turned to her best friend. "Well," she began, crossing the console room to stand next to him. "That was much more exciting than I ever imagined murder in London could be."

"I agree with you, Clara," the Doctor replied, lazily flipping a switch.

Clara leaned her back against the console before continuing. "And to think, we met local celebrity Sherlock Holmes. And John Watson of course!"

The Doctor smiled brightly at her. It occurred to Clara that this was how it began; with her leaning against the console and the Doctor smiling at her. Her happiness overwhelmed her, and she let out a small laugh.

"What is it?" the Doctor asked.

"I just hope that things never change," Clara sighed happily.

The TARDIS lurched, and Clara knew that she had probably landed in the middle of her living room. "I'll pick you up again soon," he said she started walking away.

"Looking forward to it," Clara replied over her shoulder.

As soon as she stepped outside and closed the door, the TARDIS took off again, leaving Clara alone.

Without wasting any time, she changed clothes and collapsed on her bed. As fun as her latest adventure had been, it had been exhausting. It wasn't long before sleep came to her.

**XOXOXOXOXOXOXOX**

Sherlock had insisted on riding in the cab with Molly to her flat. She curled up against him, enjoying his nearness. After so long of watching after him, it was nice to have him close. She could feel his eyes watching her, analyzing as always.

"Are you alright?" he finally asked.

"Yeah," Molly responded. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Well, just with everything that happened, it would leave some people shaken up."

Molly nodded. "I'm alright. Better actually."

When the cab pulled up to Molly's flat, it was with much reluctance that she pulled herself away from Sherlock. "I'll see you again soon," he promised before closing the cab door. Molly grinned wildly to herself as she watched the cab drive away.

**XOXOXOXOXOXOXOX**

"Are you going to put this in your blog?" Sherlock asked.

John laughed quietly and answered, "I'm taking out all the parts about aliens. Don't worry."

Sherlock flopped onto the couch and watched as his best friend typed. The entire case had been absolutely brilliant. "I need cases like this more often. London's criminals have nothing on Raxacoricofallapatorius's."

John smirked to himself. "Maybe we'll see him again one day."

The two fell into comfortable silence. Sherlock entered his mind palace and reexamined the new data retrieved over the past few days. He definitely hadn't seen enough of the worlds outside Earth. Someday soon, he vowed, he would see the Doctor again.

Sherlock was unsure of how much time had passed as he came back to the flat. John was still on his computer, typing. Sherlock sighed in contentment and continued to watch for a few minutes before breaking the silence.

"John?"

"Yes, Sherlock?"

"I'm bored."

**XOXOXOXOXOXOXOX**

**AN**: So here we are at the end. Thank you to everybody who followed, favorited, and reviewed. You made this story worth writing. I will probably write an epilogue soon. Also, since I had so much fun writing this, I think I'm going to write a sequel. Thanks again, and goodbye for now!

-Dead Man's Toe


	17. Epilogue: Months Later

"And then the Doctor figured out that the trees were actually trying to help us. The flare struck, and the trees absorbed the impact! It was amazing to watch!"

John Watson laughed softly as he watched his girlfriend grow more excited as she told her story. He had been dating Clara Oswald for a few months now, ever since they had worked Dadre's case. Every time he saw her, she would tell him a new story about her adventures with the Doctor.

"Who would've thought that the trees would protect us after what we've done to them?" Clara wondered aloud.

"Well, it is their planet too," Sherlock commented from across the table.

John, Clara, Sherlock, and Molly met at Angelo's often. Clara had even managed to drag the Doctor down a few times. They exchanged stories there, and often received odd looks from the civilians, as Sherlock had taken to calling them.

Under the table, Molly entwined her hand with Sherlock's. They had started dating about a month after the events on Raxacoricofallapatorius. The two of them couldn't be happier now that they had finally found each other.

"Well, enough about the trees. How was court?" Clara asked.

John groaned in response. "It was a bloody nightmare. I had to bail Sherlock out of jail for talking back to the judge."

"He was asking for it," Sherlock replied indignantly.

Clara laughed and shook her head. "But this Moriarty guy got off clean, didn't he? How did he do that?"

"Blackmail," Sherlock responded.

"Where is he now?" Clara asked.

"We don't know," John answered. "We're just waiting for him to make his next move."

"Brilliant," Clara commented.

"I can't believe I dated him," Molly said.

Clara nearly spit out her drink. "You dated a criminal mastermind?"

Molly laughed. "Yes. That was an adventure."

The quartet continued to talk and laugh long into the evening. It was as if time had frozen on that joyful moment. It was during those frozen moments that everything seemed right. Of course, they all suspected that this was just the calm before a storm, but for now, they would put there worrying aside and enjoy the moment.

Later, of course, there would be more intense danger and heartbreak, but while they had each other safe, they were going to make the most of it.

**XOXOXOXOXOXOXOX**

**AN: **Thanks again to everyone who read! I should have the prologue to the sequel up in a minute. It's called Plunged Into Darkness in case anyone is interested.

-Dead Man's Toe


End file.
